1863--1892.
Seems it yestreen since we
First hailed thee, beautous bride!
Sweet-smiling, by the side
Of Him, our king to be.
Cheek of the pink sea-shell;
Eyes of the summer blue,
Locks of the brown-gold hue;
Voice clear as silver bell.
The myriads crowd the street;
Glad music, nigh and far,
Outsoundeth earthly jar;
And tenders welcome meet.
* * * * *
Once more thy form I see,
Amid thy family band
Save one, on Scottish strand,
And twain--where seraphs be.
Nor fled thy winsome grace;
Nor did thy beauty fade,
Though sad bereavement's shade
Hath paled thy peerless face.
Still sway with gentle hand;
Still live thy lovesome life
Fond mother! faithful wife!
First princess of first land.
[Illustration]