40
Poems
Dainty Mistress Charity!
Fair and beauteous rarity!
Cupid shoots his arrows from each tender dusky tress,
From thy glances they fly straight into each heart that's left unguarded,
And even from the soft folds of thy dainty satin dress.
Thy dancing feet trip lightly
And thy blue eyes sparkle brightly,
And laughter lurks, half hidden, in the soft curves of thy mouth,
Thy brow is white and even, with that look that is God-given,
And thy voice holds more of music than the song birds of the South.
What wonder that I love thee!
Winsome, gracious Charity!
Fair and beauteous rarity!
Cupid shoots his arrows from each tender dusky tress,
From thy glances they fly straight into each heart that's left unguarded,
And even from the soft folds of thy dainty satin dress.
Thy dancing feet trip lightly
And thy blue eyes sparkle brightly,
And laughter lurks, half hidden, in the soft curves of thy mouth,
Thy brow is white and even, with that look that is God-given,
And thy voice holds more of music than the song birds of the South.
What wonder that I love thee!
Winsome, gracious Charity!
