Or gayer tulip, holds her radiant court But I want thine eyes, Love, with mine upon the sport. Without thee, Beauty is not beautiful- I know E'en though the frailest bud that bears the name, But when alone, though Persia's roses bend So murmured the fair Emmeline, and sighed- Upon the blushing chaplet, which not then Out-crimsoned her soft cheek. Another's eye Gazed upon her's, that dropped their deep-fringed lids, As though o'ercome by full and sudden joy, Nor e'en glanced up, until a fervent kiss, Stealing the tear which weighed the dark lash down, Called a long look, half fondness, half reproof, On that proud, happy listener. N |