LITMIR.BIZ

      Beauty gives

      The features perfectness, and to the form

      Its delicate proportions: she may stain

      The eye with a celestial blue, the cheek

      With carmine of the sunset; she may breathe

      Grace into every motion, like the play

      Of the least visible tissue of a cloud;

      She may give all that's rich – her own

      Bright cestus – and one glance of Intellect,

      Like stronger magic, will outshine it all.

      Slowly from the western hill-sides

      Fades the sunset's ruddy light,

      While the birds amid the tree-tops

      Softly chirp their sweet "Good-night."

      Where the elm trees' spreading branches

      Hide the streamlets with their shades,

      Stands the fair-faced, blue-eyed Dolly,

      Flower of all the village maids, —

      Looking, in the growing twilight,

      Towards the grassy fields ahead,

      Listening still, with eye expectant,

      For the ever-welcome tread.

      From across the verdant meadow

      Comes a whistle, loud and shrill,

      Sounding through the evening stillness,

      Seemeth but the whip-poor-will.

      But the fair face glows still brighter,

      And the eyes more eager grow,

      As the notes come near and nearer,

      Louder than the streamlet's flow.

      Soon she hears the well-known music

      Of his voice, borne on the air:

      "Don't you hear me coming, Dolly?

      Dolly, dear, I'll soon be there."

      And the one she's long been waiting,

      Hat upraised, now comes in sight,

      Hastening towards the blue-eyed maiden,

      Waiting in the soft twilight.

      Happy hearts, so young and trusting,

      May no frost e'er blight your love,

      But may blessings all unnumbered

      Fall upon you from above!

      A brook flashed from a rugged height,

      Merrily, merrily glancing;

      The songs of the summer light

      Kept time to the tune of its dancing.

      Fond eyes looked on its dewy sheen,

      Reading fate in its waters;

      "Darling, the song of the brook is for you,

      Fairest of earth's dear daughters."

      Bright eyes looked on its dewy sheen,

      And the songs of their lives rang clearly, —

      "The world is fair! the world is fair!"

      "And I love, I love you dearly."

      Autumn leaves, like a fairy fleet,

      Swept down towards the river;

      The false wind moaned through the dreary sleet,

      "The flowers are dead forever!"

      Sad eyes looked down on the shadowed stream,

      Reading fate in its measure:

      "For me your song, for my withered life,

      Pain in the mask of pleasure."

      Sad eyes looked on the shadowed stream,

      And the songs of their lives rang clearly, —

      "The world is sad! the world is sad!"

      "Oh! I loved, I loved him dearly."

      A flush, a glow on the winter skies,

      Earth smiles in her happy dreaming;

      Whispers the wind, "Arise! arise!

      The dawn of spring is beaming."

      Calm eyes look down on the sunny brook,

      With a smile that has conquered sadness —

      "Your song is for me in this sweet spring-time,

      In heaven is perfect gladness."

      Calm eyes look on its dewy sheen,

      And the songs of their lives ring gayly, —

      "The spring is here! the spring is here!"

      "I find strength for my burden daily."

      Come in the evening or come in the morning,

      Come when you're looked for or come without warning,

      Kisses and welcome you'll find here before you,

      And the oftener you come here the more I'll adore you!

      Light is my heart since the day we were plighted,

      Red is my cheek that they told me was blighted;

      The green of the trees looks far greener than ever,

      And the linnets are singing, "True lovers don't sever!"

      I'll pull you sweet flowers, to wear if you choose them,

      Or, after you've kissed them, they'll lie on my bosom;

      I'll fetch from the mountain its breeze to inspire you;

      I'll fetch from my fancy a tale that won't tire you.

      Oh! your step's like the rain to the summer-vexed farmer,

      Or sabre and shield to a knight without armor.

      I'll sing you sweet songs till the stars rise above me,

      Then, wandering, I'll wish you in silence to love me.

      We'll look through the trees at the cliff and the eyrie;

      We'll tread round the rath on the track of the fairy;

      We'll look on the stars, and we'll list to the river,

      Till you ask of your darling what gift you can give her.

      Oh! she'll whisper you, – "Love, as unchangeably beaming,

      And trust, when in secret, most tunefully streaming,

      Till the starlight of heaven above us shall quiver,

      As our souls flow in one down eternity's river."

      So come in the evening or come in the morning,

      Come when you're looked for or come without warning,

      Kisses and welcome you'll find here before you,

      And the oftener you come here the more I'll adore you!

      Light is my heart since the day we were plighted,

      Red is my cheek that they told me was blighted;

      The

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