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the star and the flower.
Her smile is as soft as a spirit's,—
As sweet as a bird's is her tone;
She is fair as the silvery star of the morn,
When it gleams thro' the gray mist alone.
As sweet as a bird's is her tone;
She is fair as the silvery star of the morn,
When it gleams thro' the gray mist alone.
But mine is a simple wild-flower,
A balmy and beautiful thing,
That glows with new love and delight every hour,
Thro' the tears and the smiles of sweet spring!
A balmy and beautiful thing,
That glows with new love and delight every hour,
Thro' the tears and the smiles of sweet spring!
Her eyes have the dark brilliant azure
Of heaven in a clear summer night,
And each impulse of frolicsome, infantine joy,
Brings a shy little dimple to light.
Of heaven in a clear summer night,
And each impulse of frolicsome, infantine joy,
Brings a shy little dimple to light.
Her young soul looks bright from a brow
Too fair for earth's sorrow and shame;
Her graceful and glowing lip curls, even now,
With a spirit no tyrant can tame.
Too fair for earth's sorrow and shame;
Her graceful and glowing lip curls, even now,
With a spirit no tyrant can tame.
Then let us no longer compare
These tiny, pet-treasures of ours;
For yours shall be loveliest still of the stars,
And mine shall be fairest of flowers.
These tiny, pet-treasures of ours;
For yours shall be loveliest still of the stars,
And mine shall be fairest of flowers.
