THE ROSE.
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And graceful steps pass'd on, whose tender tread
Was as the rose leaf in the autumn shed;
And witching words, raising on the young cheek
Blushes that had no need of words to speak.
Many were lovely there; but, of that many,
Was one who shone the loveliest of any,
The young Olympia. On her face the dyes
Were yet warm with the dance's exercise,
The laugh upon her full red lip yet hung,
And, arrow-like, flash'd light words from her tongue.
She had more loveliness than beauty: hers
Was that enchantment which the heart confers;
A mouth sweet from its smiles, a glancing eye,
Which had o'er all expression mastery;
Laughing its orb, but the long dark lash made
Somewhat of sadness with its twilight shade,
M 3
