And laurel leaves entwine,

and fainted

This spray of Western pine!

FRANCIS BRET HARTE.

HESTER.

WHEN maidens such as Hester die,
Their place ye may not well supply,
Though ye among a thousand try,
With vain endeavor.

A month or more hath she been dead,
Yet cannot I by force be led
To think upon the wormy bed
And her, together.

A springy motion in her gait,
A rising step did indicate
Of pride and joy no common rate,
That flush'd her spirit;

I know not by what name beside
I shall it call if 'twas not pride,
It was a joy to that allied,

She did inherit.