Volume 1 — SHE SITS ALONE.

She sits alone, with folded hands, While from her full and lustrous eyes Imperial light wakes love to life,— Love that, unheeded, quickly dies. She sits alone, among them all So near, and yet so far,—they seem But our coarse waking thoughts, while she Is the reflection of a dream. She sits alone, so still, so calm, So queenly in her grand repose, You wish that Love would slap her cheeks And make the white a blush-red rose!