THE YOUNG LOVERS.
She was a witching creature, o'er whose head
Scarce eighteen summers on bright wings had flown,
Into whose spirit poetry had shed
Her sweetest odors, breathed fresh from her own;
Pure modesty around her light form spread
Her spotless drapery, and, like a zone,
Beauty encircled her, for her wild glances
Spell-bound all hearts in sweet bewildering trances.
Scarce eighteen summers on bright wings had flown,
Into whose spirit poetry had shed
Her sweetest odors, breathed fresh from her own;
Pure modesty around her light form spread
Her spotless drapery, and, like a zone,
Beauty encircled her, for her wild glances
Spell-bound all hearts in sweet bewildering trances.
Her beauty was of a mysterious kind,
Baffling the pencil, that its charms would trace,
For the rich depths of her illumined mind
Such flitting gleams gave to her love-toned face,
That the spell-taken eye could ever find
Some charm unseen before; a willowy grace
Played in the movements of her form, just moulded
Into soft roundness, like a rose unfolded.
Baffling the pencil, that its charms would trace,
For the rich depths of her illumined mind
Such flitting gleams gave to her love-toned face,
That the spell-taken eye could ever find
Some charm unseen before; a willowy grace
Played in the movements of her form, just moulded
Into soft roundness, like a rose unfolded.
Her step was lighter than the wanton breeze,
That breathes its love-sighs to the dreamy hours,
And graceful as light vapors o'er the seas,
Melting away in soft and dewy showers,
That breathes its love-sighs to the dreamy hours,
And graceful as light vapors o'er the seas,
Melting away in soft and dewy showers,
