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SCHOOL OF YOUNG LADIES.
��How fair upon the admiring sight,
In Learning's sacred fane, With cheek of bloom, and robe of white,
Glide on yon graceful train. Blest creatures ! to whose gentle eye
Earth's gilded gifts are new, Ye know not that distrustful sigh
Which deems its vows untrue.
There is a bubble on your cup
By buoyant fancy nurs'd, How high its sparkling foam leaps up !
Ye do not think 'twill burst : And be it far from me to fling
On budding joys a blight, Or darkly spread a raven's wing
To shade a path so bright.
There twines a wreath around your brow,
Blent with the sunny braid ; Love lends its flowers a radiant glow
Ye do not think 'twill fade :
�� �
