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 | Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood |  |
CIV. YOUR HEART IS A MUSIC-BOX, DEAREST!
Your heart is a music-box, dearest!With exquisite tunes at command,
Of melody sweetest and clearest,
If tried by a delicate hand;
But its workmanship, love, is so fine,
At a single rude touch it would break;
Then, oh! be the magic key mine,
Its fairy-like whispers to wake!
And there's one little tune it can play,
That I fancy all others above—
You learn'd it of Cupid one day—
It begins with and ends with “I love!” “I love!”
My heart echoes to it “I love!”
| Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood | |