Ballads of Beauty.

Beauty.

Beauty gives

The features perfectness, and to the form

Its delicate proportions: she may stain

The eye with a celestial blue, the cheek

With carmine of the sunset; she may breathe

Grace into every motion, like the play

Of the least visible tissue of a cloud;

She may give all that's rich—her own

Bright cestus—and one glance of Intellect,

Like stronger magic, will outshine it all.

[14]

[14]

Waiting in the Twilight.

Slowly from the western hill-sides

Slowly

Fades the sunset's ruddy light,

While the birds amid the tree-tops

Softly chirp their sweet "Good-night."

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