Page:Landon in The New Monthly 1836.pdf/10



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A mouth that is itself a rose, And scatters roses too; An eye that borrows from the sky Its sunshine and its blue;

A laugh, an echo from the song The lark at morning sings; A voice — but that has sadder tones, And tells of tenderer things;

Auburn is her long dark hair With a golden shine: Must I tell you more to know This true love of mine?

I might say she is so kind, Faithful, fond—but no! My sweet maiden's hidden heart None but I may know.