“Full many a grave in Monrepos
O’er which the forest boughs are tost,
Argues the grief that rends my heart
For those whom I have loved and lost.
But Monrepos proclaimed me his,
My lord’s, till soul and body part;
Divinely sent he came, and I
Became the chosen of his heart.
All this thou silent grove with me
In solemn sympathy hast seen;
The rest was shrouded from thy gaze,
For many a league lay stretched between.
In distant land new scenes surround,
Alternatives of joy and care;
My baby’s voice there strikes my ear,
Hope, love and sorrow, all are there.”
When the little Princess, who called herself “Itty,” first called her
“mother,” the Princess wrote--