Page:Carroll - Phantasmagoria and other poems (1869).djvu/169

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BEATRICE.
157

And be sure, if a savage heart,
In a mask of human guise,
Were to come on her here apart—
Bound for a dark and deadly deed,
Hurrying past with pitiless speed—
He would suddenly falter and guiltily start
At the glance of her pure blue eyes.

Nay, be sure, if an angel fair,
A bright seraph undefiled,
Were to stoop from the trackless air,
Fain would she linger in glad amaze—
Lovingly linger to ponder and gaze,
With a sister's love and a sister's care,
On the happy, innocent child.