ANNIE.
Reading edition
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BY D. W. BARTLETT.
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Her brow is very beautiful—
The lily’s spotless hue;
Her eyes, which ever follow me,
Are heaven’s own blue;
Like rose-buds are her little lips,
Her motions full of grace,
And spiritually clear and fair
Her innocent young face.
Her smile is sunshine to my heart,
Her silver voice a tune
I always love to hear—her breath
Like that of flowers in June;
She is my first, my only child,
And has no mother’s love
To gather closely round her heart—
She is in light above!
Her snow-white arms are round my neck.
Her lips my own do seek,
Her curls of silken, golden hair
Fall down upon my cheek;
I hear her voice and watch her eyes,
And whisper low—“above
Such voices fill the air—and there
There be such eyes of love!”
When trouble fills my aching breast
And I am grief’s sad prey,
Her prattling lips and gentle glee
Drive all the gloom away;
She lays her head upon my heart
And hushes every sigh:
I dare not think how cold the world
Would be if she should die!