SONNET.

The curious eye may watch her lovely face, Whereon such rare and roseate tinctures glow, And cry, How fair the rose and lily show Mid all the glories of a maiden grace! If this sweet show, this bloom and tender glance, Would so attract a stranger's unskilled eyes, Until he sees the light of Paradise Dawn in the garden of that countenance— I, to whom love hath given finer powers, See there the emblems of a flowering soul That hath its root in other world than ours, And which doth ever seek its native goal; Meanwhile decks life with love and grace and flowers, And in one beauteous garland binds the whole.