 | Euphrenia or the Test of Love |  |
XVII.
E'en happy childhood strikes the eye,Or rather strikes the ear,
Showing its whereabouts with laugh
So natural and clear;
Those tresses which, an hour ago,
Were not a hair awry,
Now, in disorder scattered,
In rich confusion lie.
How beautiful that rosy tint,
How bright those laughing eyes,
Which mirror each emotion's play,
And scorn to use disguise.
| Euphrenia or the Test of Love | |