I'll send the feather from my Hat!
Who knows-but at the sight of that
My Sovereign will relent?
As trinket-worn by faded Child-
Confronting eyes long-comforted-
Blisters the Adamant!
by Henry van DykeO Music hast thou only heard
The laughing river, the singing bird,
The murmuring wind in the poplar-trees,--
Nothing but Nature's melodies?
Nay, thou hearest all her tones,
As a Queen must hear!