Poems (Osgood)/Virginia

by Frances Sargent Osgood

VIRGINIA.

I saw her first—a petted child,
 Her eyes were blue as heaven;
Her cheek was dimpled when she smiled,
 Her lips a rose-bud riven.

Her form, the prettiest in the world,
 Her step—a fairy's flight,
Her hair, like clouded sunshine, curl'd
 In clusters wild and bright.

"A child," I said,—so artless, wild,
 And full of mirth her mien;
You'd deem her but a lovely child,
 Though she was just fifteen.

I met her on her way to school,
 The snow fell swift and still;
The morn was clear and bright, but cool,
 And I had felt the chill.

But idly at that childlike form
 Fierce Winter flung his dart;
Her frolic feet had kept her warm,
 And Love was at her heart.

Her small straw bonnet backward flung,
 Her cloak blown here and there,
While drops of snow-like jewels hung
 In her disorder'd hair.—

That dimpled cheek was flush'd and bright,
 A smile was on her lip;
Her eyes were full of wild delight,
 And gay her graceful trip.

She seem'd a sunbeam in my way,
 The vision warm'd my heart,
And Memory kept the blessed ray
 Long after we did part.

Years went—again her path I've cross'd;
 Ah! from that form and face
What depth of bloom and light are lost,
 What wealth of artless grace!

The world has won her—she has learn'd
 Its measured smile and tread;
The foot that once the snow-flake spurn'd,
 By courtly rule is led.

And Fashion's hand has smooth'd the fold
 Of that luxuriant hair,
Where once the tress of glossy gold
 Waved wildly on the air.

Yet oft, unbidden, to her eyes
 Quick tears of Feeling start,
And while those gems of truth arise,
 She's still a child at heart.

Alas! in all her Beauty's power,
 Proud, stately and serene;
She knows not one bright thrilling hour
 Like those of gay fifteen!