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THE

TRUE LOVERS' KNOT.

'

THE TRUE LOVE KNOT.

D

OMESTIC Love ! not in proud palace halls

Is often seen thy beauty to abide :

Thy dwelling is in lowly cottage walls,
That in the thickets of the woodbine hide ;
With hum of bees around, and from the side
Of woody hills, some little bubbling spring,
Shining along through banks with harebells dyed;

And many a bird to warble on the wing,
When Morn her saffron robe o'er heaven and earth doth

fling.

0, love of loves !--to thy white hand is given
Of earthly happiness the golden key!
Thine are the joyous hours of winter's even,
When the babes cling around their father's knee;
And thine the voice that on the midnight sea

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