Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/57

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was lovely indeed,—at the dawn of the day,
 * When her plainness of dress set a foil to her grace,

As her labyrinths of flowers and her bees to survey,
 * She glided about in the old garden-place.

She was lovely, more lovely, at eve, in the ball,
 * When the light joyed to rest on her forehead's expanse,

As decked with blue sapphires, and roses, 'mid all,
 * She whirled like a sylph in the maze of the dance.

She was lovelier yet;—more lovely by far,
 * When the night-wind filled out the folds of her veil.

In the silence returning by the beams of a star,
 * What a rapture it was, such a vision to hail!

She was lovely indeed—and what was her crown?
 * A hope vague and soft that embellished each day;

Love to perfect her seemed loth to come down,—
 * Peace!—There's her hearse passing by on its way.