But that lock of silky hair,
Still beneath the picture twined,
Tells what once those features were,
Paints her image on the mind.
Fair the hand that traced that line,
'Dearest, ever deem me true';
Swiftly flew the fingers fine
When the pen that motto drew.
Awaking morning laughs from heaven
On golden summer's forests green,
And what a gust of song is given
To welcome in that light serene!
A fresh wind waves the clustering roses
And through the open window sighs
Around the couch where she reposes,
The lady with the dovelike eyes;
With dovelike eyes and shining hair,
And velvet cheek so sweetly moulded;
And hands so white and soft and fair
Above her snowy bosom folded.
·····
Her sister's and her brother's feet
Are brushing off the scented dew,
And she springs up in haste to greet
The grass and flowers and sunshine too.
