The Paint-King, envious of his cunning art,
To him the tinted palette would not lend;
So has he dipped the pencil in his heart,
And with his light and shade its hues still blend.
More verses by Anne Charlotte Lynch Botta
- The Dying Sycamores
- Lafayette
- Lines On An Incident Observed From The Deck Of A Steamboat On The Mississippi River
- Sonnet. The Lake And Star
- Bryant