THE PRINCESS OF WALES 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.