L.E.L.: The Improvatrice

My childhood passed ‘mid radiant things,
Glorious as Hope’s imaginings ;
Statues but known from shapes of the earth,
By being too lovely for mortal birth ;
Paintings whose colours of life were caught
From the fairy tints in the rainbow wrought ;
Music whose sighs had a spell like those
That float on the sea at the evening’s close ;
Language so silvery, that every word
Was like the lute’s awakening chord ;
Skies half sunshine, and half starlight ;
Flowers whose lives were a breath of delight ;
Leaves whose green pomp knew no withering ;
Fountains bright as the skies of our spring ;
And songs whose wild and passionate line
Suited a soul of romance like mine.
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Helen Hay Whitney: With Music

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Alice Meynell: A Shattered Lute