 | Freedom's Offering, |  |
10
To Miss M. S. I. S.
How very bright the stars do shine,In the clear blue sky of winter;
But brighter far those eyes of thine,
My dearest angel, Minta!
Tho' passing bright, yet innocent,
So mild, so soft, so kind,
The orb of day his lustre's lent
T' express the beauty of thy mind.
Thy outward grace I do admire,
Still more thy gifted intellect;
Whilst one doth kindle passion's fire,
The other on the mind reflects.
And what is outward decoration
Without the beauty of the mind?
The graces in their dispensation,
Have in thee, Sarah, both combined.
Thy thoughts so lofty, and so free,
Fall o'er me like the gentle rain;
Oh, grant that I may think of thee,
With more than friendship's feeling, Jane!
| Freedom's Offering, | |