With tingling cheeks and finger tips.
Sending up a golden fire,—
Thus much let me avow--
To strengthen whilst one stands."
Like two flakes of new-fall'n snow,
With its iterated jingle
Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink
Their evil gifts would harm us."
So low for long, they never right themselves:
To lift one if one totters down,
With tingling cheeks and finger tips.
Sending up a golden fire,—
Thus much let me avow--
To strengthen whilst one stands."
Like two flakes of new-fall'n snow,
With its iterated jingle
Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink
Their evil gifts would harm us."
So low for long, they never right themselves:
To lift one if one totters down,