Should she let them smile upon you
With their own peculiar light,
Keep your heaviest armor on you,
For there's mischief in the sprite.
If you have the heart of human,
She will pilfer it away;
And so slyly, how the woman
Got it you could never say.
But with all is Kate the dearest,
Kindest little girl on earth;
With an eye and soul the clearest,
And the softest in their mirth.
Stately as the lily-blossom,
And as queenly and as fair,
With no sin in her young bosom,
On her brow no shade of care.
THE OLD MAN'S FAVORITE.
Do you ask where she has fled—
Fanny, with the laughing eyes?
Should I tell you "She is dead,"
You would mimic tears and sighs,
And pretend a sad surprise.
Yester-week, when you were here,
She was sitting on your knee,
Whispering stories in your ear
With an air of mystery,
And a roguish glance at me.
