Classic Poem

Mignionette. — Heliotrope. — Pink.

I know not if that face be fair,
If what the world would beauty call,
May beam and blush and brighten there,
In lip and eye and ringlet's fall:

So richly eloquent through those eyes,
Your soul , of love and truth doth speak,
So soft the timid heart-hues rise,
In glowing witchery, on your cheek,

That, whether it be fair or dark,
Or they, the eyes, be black or blue,
I never yet have cared to mark,
Or marking, have forgot the hue:

I only know — howe'er you smile,
Whate'er your tresses' teint or fashion,
The graces of your mind beguile
My heart to own a deathless passion.