L'AMORE DOMINATORE.
They built a temple for the God,
'Twas in a myrtle grove,
Where the bee and the butterfly
Vied for each blossom's love.
The marble pillars rose like snow,
Glittering in the sunshine:
A thousand roses shed their breath,
Like incense, o'er the shrine.
And there were censers of perfume,
Vases with their sweet showers,
