Page:Poems Welby.djvu/44

Her voice was like the softest flow
 Of some melodious breeze;
Yes, she was young and fair, but O!
 Her charms were more than these.

O, how I loved her! yet, methinks,
 Should friendship's glittering chain
Unite in bliss its broken links,
 Around my heart again,
Those soft and melting orbs of thine,
 That sparkle as they burn,
From this too tender heart of mine
 Would meet a soft return;
For, lady! till that first sweet even,
 You stole within my view,
My melting heart to her had given
 The softest throbs it drew.

O, could thy glowing fancy trace
 The form, my fancy sees—
The ringlets lifted from her face
 By every passing breeze;
The clearness of her ample brow,
 Her orbs of hazel hue
Soft melting on thee—even thou
 Would st love and mourn her too!
She lived as lives a peaceful dove;
 She died as blossoms die;