Men flocking round me, I find I'm admir'd;
Praise is as sweet as a gratified whim;
When a girl pleases she never feels tir'd--
Harry smiles at me, and I smile at him.
Through the open doors of a crystal dome
Sweet is the scent of the tropical flowers,
The splendid exiles who, banish'd from home,
Are sparkling and shining to gladden ours.
Figures appearing 'mid blossom and fruit,
In an airy, fairy, magical way;
Their lips keep moving altho' they are mute
For ears too distant to hear what they say.

From a lily bud can a voice be sent?--
'Let us hope the Captain's wild oats are sown;
A pretty young wife should make him content'--
Only a word in a soft-spoken tone!

Moving serenely 'mid beauty and song,
Am not I born for the glittering throng?
Treading on roses with delicate feet,
Is not a life a perpetual treat?
Can we be more than delighted and blest?
Pleasure is beautiful--is it the best?
Highest and best that our nature can know?
Answer my heart--and my heart answers No.
And my heart answers, 'more beautiful yet