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One wild young fancy was the sire
Of fifty following aſter—
Like these—Love, Eden, and the Lyre,
Light, Elegance, and Laughter.
I've drawn from all the stars that shine,
Interpretations silly;
From flowers:—the Lily, Eglantine—
And what?–oh! then, more Lily!
Now fancy's dead—no thought can strike,
No guess, solution, stricture;
For L. E. L. is—simply like
This dainty little picture.
Life to her Lays! However fame
'Mongst brightest names may set hers,
Those Three Initials (nameless name!)
Will never be—dead letters!
††
