Page:Poems Osgood.djvu/54

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There are bright eyes by thousands,
 Black, hazel, and blue;
But whose are so loving
 As those of Lulu!

And waves of soft hair,
 That a poet would vow
Was moonlight on marble,
 Droop over her brow.
The rose rarely blooms
 Thro' that light, silken maze,
But when it does play there,
 How softly it plays!
Oh! there's many a maiden
 More brilliant, 'tis true,
But none so enchanting
 As little Lulu!

She flits, like a fairy,
 About me all day,
Now nestling beside me,
 Now up and away!
She singeth unbidden,
 With warble as wild