A CHAIN FROM VENICE.
She stretches dimpled arms of snow;
A glad smile lights her baby eyes:
My little beauty, would you know
The story of your shining prize?
A glad smile lights her baby eyes:
My little beauty, would you know
The story of your shining prize?
It is a poet's golden thought
Of you, that glitters like your hair,
Of rich Venetian sunlight wrought
Far in the South's enchanted air.
Of you, that glitters like your hair,
Of rich Venetian sunlight wrought
Far in the South's enchanted air.
Ah, if you stay from Heaven to learn
The years before you lying dim,
You'll think, my darling, in return,
A thought as beautiful of him.
The years before you lying dim,
You'll think, my darling, in return,
A thought as beautiful of him.