AND FLOWERS OF POETRY. 
147 
But his sigh so soft, and his smile so warm, 
Were melting the icicle fast away; 
And lo! as I gazed, he freed his form, 
And plumed his wings on the frost-bound spray. 
“ And how came you in it, sweet Love ?” I cried; 
He bit his lips as he answered low — 
“ I have been a fool for my pains; — I tried 
Young Julia’s heart, with a tale of wo: 
“She pitied — received — and hushed me to sleep 
On her tranquil breast, that knew no sin; 
And o’er my form soft tears did weep, 
But oh! so cold, they froze me in ! 
“ I woke to find myself prisoned here, 
In the palace of ice her tears had wrought; 
And if ever I trust to a woman’s tear 
Again, may I be — in my own net, caught!” 
He sighed — he shivered — shook off the last 
Chill drops that hung on his plumes of light; 
One rueful look upon me he cast, 
Then rapidly rose and was lost to sight. 
f. s. o. 
