KATE.
I know one—I wish you knew her,
Dark-eyed, rose-lipped, darling Kate!
Many an eye's bright cynosure,
Many a fond heart's star of fate.
Stately as the lily -blossom,
And as queenly and as fair;
With no sin in her young bosom,
On her brow no shade of care.
Should you see her you would love her;
All who ever knew her do;
But I fear you can not move her
To confess that she loves you.
For the little witch is wicked,
In a pretty, harmless way,
And if you should seem tormented,
Would delight to say you "nay."
Half-a-dozen dimples hover
'Mong the roses on her cheek;
Should she smile, you'll soon discover
How they play at hide-and-seek.
And her smile is just the fleetest,
Brightest, most enchanting smile!
And her merry laugh the sweetest
You will hear in many a mile.
From her pure and child-like forehead
Many a dark-brown silken tress,
Simply and demurely braided,
Still betrays her loveliness.
And the eyelids' long dark lashes
Have a most provoking art,
Drooping when the soft eye flashes
With the truth of her wild heart.
