Is Not Thy Home Among The Flowers?

And Kind The Voice And Glad The Eyes That Welcome My Return At Night.

Look On This Beautiful World, And Read The Truth In Her Fair Page.

Thine Eyes Are Springs In Whose Serene And Silent Waters Heaven Is Seen. Their Lashes Are The Herbs That Look On Their Young Figures In The Brook.

Virtue Cannot Dwell With Slaves, Nor Reign O'er Those Who Cower To Take A Tyrant's Yoke.

And At My Silent Window-sill The Jessamine Peeps In.