207 
My humbler offering she took, 
Red, trembling, as in sconi. 
Nor deigned vouchsafe me e’en a look — 
And ’twas her birth-day morn ! 
Oh! had her angel eye the power 
To kill, or turn to stone. 
I’d better borne such glance that hour 
Than that averted one. 
And forth I wandered — and I vowed 
My fond wild dream was o’er; — 
I would but mingle in the crowd 
And gaze on her once more. 
'X- x- -x- * * 
It was the evening of that day. 
That day when laughter glad 
Rang out, mid dance tmd mirthful play. 
From some—while I was sad. 
’Twas evening, and the crowded hall 
Mocked the less dazzling day; 
And rainbow-like the hues that all 
Shone in that festal ray. 
