Page:Poems Angier.djvu/17

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MY MUSE.
3
Yes, my muse is an angel, no mortal hath skill
Thus to play on my heart-harp, and tune it at will
To strains which can strengthen, and solace, and cheer,
Bid the face beam with smiles, check the fast-falling tear.
Since my songster a friend from the skies proves to be,
No more need I ask—who is singing to me?