ILLUSTRATION OF PLATE. 
Pansies. — Broom. 
My heart would be at ease, if my solitude were blest with your 
society. 
If thou wert here, my fairy-queen! 
With all thy graces, wiles, and spells, 
How soon would show this sylvan scene, 
What magic in thy presence dwells! 
The crests of foam the wavelets wear, 
Would change to crowns of living pearl; 
And balm would be the ambient air, 
And radiant joy the sun, my girl! 
