 | Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood |  |
ON SIVORI'S VIOLIN.
A dryad's home was once the tree
From which they carved this wondrous toy,
Who chanted lays of love and glee,
Till every leaflet thrill'd with joy.
From which they carved this wondrous toy,
Who chanted lays of love and glee,
Till every leaflet thrill'd with joy.
But when the tempest laid it low,
The exiled fay flew to and fro;
Till finding here her home once more,
She warbles wildly as before!
The exiled fay flew to and fro;
Till finding here her home once more,
She warbles wildly as before!
| Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood | |