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 | Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood |  |
421
LXVIII. SHE COMES, IN LIGHT AERIAL GRACE.
She comes! in light, aerial grace,
O'er memory's glass the vision flies;
Her girlish form, her glowing face,
Her soft, black hair, her beaming eyes.
O'er memory's glass the vision flies;
Her girlish form, her glowing face,
Her soft, black hair, her beaming eyes.
I think of all her generous love;
Her trustful heart, so pure and meek;
Her tears—an April shower,—that strove
With sunshine on her changing cheek.
Her trustful heart, so pure and meek;
Her tears—an April shower,—that strove
With sunshine on her changing cheek.
She knows no worldly guile or art,
But Love and Joy have made her fair;
And so I keep her in my heart,
And bless her in my silent prayer.
But Love and Joy have made her fair;
And so I keep her in my heart,
And bless her in my silent prayer.
| Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood | |