Page:Over the river, and other poems.djvu/94

 are passing now, a merry group: I can hear each joyous tone. Two are walking with close-clasped hands, and one trips onward alone ; And each one holds in her dimpled hand a bunch of spring flowers just blown. One has eyes of the brightest blue, and curls of the sunniest gold ; Lips like rosebuds, and brow white as the Parian marble cold, Nellie, sweet darling, and pet of all! she is only three Aprils old.