Explore "Mary Seaham, Volume III" by Mrs. Grey on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Ah, Zelica! there was a time, when bliss / Shone o'er thy heart from every look of his; / When but to see him, hear him breathe the air / In which he dwelt was thy soul's fondest prayer; / When round him hung such a perpetual spell, / Whate'er he did, none ever did so well. / Too happy days! when, if he touch'd a flower / Or gem of thine, 'twas sacred from that hour. / LALLA ROOKH.
Mary Seaham sat alone that same evening by the hotel room fire, / expecting Eugene Trevor.