TO FANNI IN A BALL DRESS.
Thou hast braided thy dark flowing hair,
And wreathed it with rosebuds and pearls;
But dearer, neglected thy sweet tresses are,
Soft falling in natural curls.
Thou delightest the cold world's gaze,
When crown'd with the flower and the gem,
But thy lover's smile should be dearer praise
Than the incense thou prizest from them.
The bloom on thy young cheek is bright
With triumph enjoy'd too well,
Yet less dear than when soft as the moonbeam's light,
Or the tinge in a hyacinth bell.
And gay is the playful tone,
As to flattery's voice thou respondest:
But what is the praise of the cold and unknown,
To the tender blame of the fondest?
