Like the preceding, they have no title.
I.
"I built me a temple, and said it should be A shrine, and a home where the past meets me, And the most evanescent and fleeting of things, Should be lured to my temple, and shorn of their wings, To adorn my palace of memories.
II.
"The pearl of the morning, the glow of the noon, The play of the clouds as they float past the moon, The most magical tint on the snowiest peak, They are gone while I gaze, fade before you can speak, Yet they stay in my palace of memories.
III.
"I stood in the midst of the forest trees, And heard the sweet sigh of the wandering breeze, And this with the tinkle of heifer bells, As they trill on the ear from the dewy dells, Are the sounds in my palace of memories.
IV.
"I looked in the face of a little child, With its fugitive dimples and eyes so wild, It springs off with a bound like a wild gazelle, It is off and away, but I've caught my[1] And here's mirth for my palace of memories.
V.
"In the morning we meet on a mountain height, And we walk and converse till the fall of night, We hold hands for a moment, then pass on our way, But that which I've got from the friend of a day, I'll keep in my palace of memories." [Footnote 1: Word here illegible.] The verses which Landor praised with enthusiasm so excessive were most, or I think all of them, published in the annual edited by his friend Lady Blessington, and were all written before our marriage.

I have many long letters addressed to her by that lady, and several by her niece Miss Power, respecting them.

They always in every instance ask for "more." Many of her verses she set to music, especially one little poemlet, which I remember to this day the tune of, which she called the _Song of the Blackbird_, and which was, if I remember rightly, made to consist wholly of the notes uttered by the bird.
Another instance of her "multiform faculty" was her learning landscape sketching.

I have spoken of her figure drawing.

And this, I take it, was the real bent of her talent in that line.