FOKTUNE-TELLER. 11 
ANEMONE, OR WIND ELOWER. 
Your eye is like the star of eve, 
And sweet your voice as seraph’s song. 
* * * * 
Within your soul a voice there lives ! 
It bids you hear the tale of woe. 
Coleridge. 
Thou art not for the fashion of these times, 
Where none will sweat but for promotion, 
And having that, do choke their service up, 
Even with the having ; it is not so with thee 
Shakspeare. 
