 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
Left alone, ere long, she went
Softly to her instrument,
Touched a chord or two, and then
Deftly warbled forth a strain,
Not without its shade of pain.
Softly to her instrument,
Touched a chord or two, and then
Deftly warbled forth a strain,
Not without its shade of pain.
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |