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THE PROPOSAL.
So fair a face must love and be beloved
By summer flowers; each has so much of each
In either's nature. She is standing now
With eyes downcast and blue; the violet hides
So its deep colours and its dew from noon.
The rose is on her cheek; an unquiet bloom
That comes and goes, then settles down at last
In one rich flash of pleasure. What a smile!
A heartfelt conscious smile, scarce parts the lips
That seem as if they sighed; the deep-drawn sigh
Of anxious happiness, which builds on hope.
A scroll is in her hand; it bears the words
Of one who loves her—dear as his own life.
What will her answer be? A down-cast eye,
A blush, a smile—What can their answer be?
Yes!—only "Yes!"
