Classic Poem

There's sweetness in that face of thine —
There's magic in that eye;
Benevolence is stamped benign
Upon thy forehead high.
And kindness, from a glowing heart,
Diffuses widely there;
And shows how near the Limner's art,
Can with the life compare.

Yes! from the latent soul's recess,
His fiery pencil's brought,
— As if its touch could solve or guess —
Each inward-working thought;
And strewn them freely o'er thy cheek,
Thine eye, thy lips of smile;
And there they speak a bosom meek —
A heart yet strange to guile.

Forbid that this should e'er be so —
That years should on their wing,
A heavy, doleful load of wo
Unto thy feelings bring.
Yet while this world is our lot,
Upon its waves we're driven;
And, only find a resting spot,
When safely moored in heaven.