|
S
WEET "negative " before me, in a charming restful way; A form with all the graces, as dear as buds in May; There is floating on the ether, for inscribing on my scroll, The text of sweetest innocence, an index to my soul. Through a misty gauze appearing, with a pose to charm the eye, And a form as fair as Cupid's with a welling heart to try; While the violin, soul-stirring, through joyous "fairies" planned, Finds portals to each hungering heart, through this, the artist hand. This glow, this inspiration, dispelling shade and gloom And in their stead condensing the sweetest flowers that bloom ; The fairest "gauze" of butterflies, perhaps we may not touch Save on the summer days Of youth, We love them all so much, On, on the sound-waves ripple, though the author may be still; The charm has left its message, which the heart may well distil, From whence upon the ether, as purest incense furled, It may touch the clouds of error, while it ripples round the world. |