Again the swift revolving year,
Returns the bright th' auspicious morn,
That shed its kindest influence here,
When Britain's future queen was born. ...
LADY, in thy proud eyes
There is a weary look,
As if the spirit we know through them
Were daunted with rebuke
To think that the heart of man henceforth
Is read like a read book.
Lady, in thy lifted face
The solitude is sore;
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