Original Poetry
... Ortinal ipoetr . SONG. The minstrel's is the craft for rte ! When the world grows cold around him His harp is strung, end its magic tongue, In a wondrous charm bath bound him' Some sing of wine, and a bright wreath twine For the br'ow of their jolly king; But the lyre asd the lay will have regal sway, When the chalice grows a useless thing. The minstrel's is the eraft for me I I have traced ...