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past and present.
Who roamed o'er the green with a fairy-like trip,
Or so featly danced over the dew,—
While laughter seemed born on her roseate lip,
And smiles were the breath that she drew?—
Or so featly danced over the dew,—
While laughter seemed born on her roseate lip,
And smiles were the breath that she drew?—
Whose voice had the gladness and mirth of a rill,
The sweetness of musical birds,—
And the ear and the heart were made captive at will,
By the sound of her soft-flowing words?
The sweetness of musical birds,—
And the ear and the heart were made captive at will,
By the sound of her soft-flowing words?
How changed;—yet methinks there's a lovelier light
That beams from her gentle blue eye—
A something more holy, more tenderly bright,
Than lit them in seasons gone by.
That beams from her gentle blue eye—
A something more holy, more tenderly bright,
Than lit them in seasons gone by.
The rich golden curls that once shaded her brow
Are parted with matronly grace,
And a few silver threads intertwined with them now,
Usurp all too quickly their place.
Are parted with matronly grace,
And a few silver threads intertwined with them now,
Usurp all too quickly their place.
She is changed—but long vigils in weariness kept,
Her lily-like paleness bespeak,
And eyes will grow dim that too often have wept,
And grief leave its trace on the cheek.
Her lily-like paleness bespeak,
And eyes will grow dim that too often have wept,
And grief leave its trace on the cheek.
