: Ballads of Beauty by Baker George M George Melville Editor - Poetry

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WINTER SONG 50

LINGER, O GENTLE TIME 90

Ballads of Beauty.

BEAUTY.

Beauty gives The features perfectness, and to the form Its delicate proportions: she may stain The eye with a celestial blue, the cheek With carmine of the sunset; she may breathe Grace into every motion, like the play Of the least visible tissue of a cloud; She may give all that's rich--her own Bright cestus--and one glance of Intellect, Like stronger magic, will outshine it all.

WAITING IN THE TWILIGHT.

Slowly from the western hill-sides Fades the sunset's ruddy light, While the birds amid the tree-tops Softly chirp their sweet "Good-night."

Where the elm trees' spreading branches Hide the streamlets with their shades, Stands the fair-faced, blue-eyed Dolly, Flower of all the village maids,--

Looking, in the growing twilight, Towards the grassy fields ahead, Listening still, with eye expectant, For the ever-welcome tread.

From across the verdant meadow Comes a whistle, loud and shrill, Sounding through the evening stillness, Seemeth but the whip-poor-will.

But the fair face glows still brighter, And the eyes more eager grow, As the notes come near and nearer, Louder than the streamlet's flow.

Soon she hears the well-known music Of his voice, borne on the air: "Don't you hear me coming, Dolly? Dolly, dear, I'll soon be there."

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