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LADY BLESSINGTON.
Yet on the haunted canvass dwells
The beauty of that face,
Which art’s departed master held
His sweetest task to trace;
None see it but are prisoners held
In its strong toil of grace.
Nature, thy fairy godmother,
Has lavished, for thy part,
A prodigality of gifts
To make thee what thou art;
The lovely face, the gifted mind,
The kind and generous heart.
