Part 9 — ROSABELLE.

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BY “CARO.”

———

A thing all life and sunshine,

A glad and happy child,

With spirits ever changing,

Half earnest and half wild;

As fleet a little fairy

As ever graced a dell,

Or frolicked in a blossom,

Is our sweet Rosabelle.

I wish that you could meet her;

Her clear and happy eyes

Would break upon your vision,

Like light from Paradise!

You’d know her in a moment—

You couldn’t help it well—

For there’s no other like her—

Our own, dear Rosabelle!

Her brow is just as open,

And sunny as the day;

And curls are dancing o’er it,

In their unfettered play.

Ah! loveliness and beauty

Have thrown their brightest spell,

Around our darling blossom—

Our witching Rosabelle!

Her mouth is made for kisses,

And when she lifts her face,

She seems to ask the tribute,

With her unconscious grace.

Her lips are ripe and glowing,

With just that pouting swell

That painters like to copy—

Our peerless Rosabelle!

Her voice is soft and child-like,

Yet gleeful as a bird’s;

I love to list the cadence

Of her half-warbled words.

Her laugh is like the music

Of some sweet, silver bell;

I hear it in the passage,

And know ’tis Rosabelle.

A thing all life and sunshine,

A glad and happy child,

With spirits ever changing,

Half earnest and half wild;

As fleet a little fairy

As ever graced a dell,

Or frolicked in a blossom,

Is our sweet Rosabelle!