Poems (Osgood)/What I Love

by Frances Sargent Osgood

WHAT I LOVE.

I dearly love a changing cheek,
 That glows or pales as feeling chooses,
And lets the free heart frankly speak
 Upon it what the tongue refuses.

Where eloquent blushes burn and fade,
 Rich with the wealth of warm emotion;
Or starry dimples mock the shade,
 Like jewels in a restless ocean.

I dearly love a speaking eye,
 That tells you there's a soul to wake it;
Now fired with fancies wild and high,
 Now soft as sympathy can make it.

An eye whose dreamy depths and dark,
 In Passion's storm can proudly lighten!
But where Love's tears can quench the spark,
 And Peace the sky serenely brighten!

I love a lip that eye to match,
 Now curl'd with scorn, now press'd in sadness,
And quick each feeling's change to catch,
 Next moment arch'd with smiles of gladness.

I love a hand that meets mine own
 With grasp that causes some sensation;
I love a voice whose varying tone
 From Truth has learn'd its modulation.

And who can boast that regal eye?
 That smile and tone, untaught by art?
That cheek of ever-changing dye?
 That brave, free, generous, cordial heart?

I need not name her! None who've heard
 Her welcome true—her parting blessing—
Her laugh, by lightest trifle stirr'd—
 Her frank reply—will fail in guessing!