University of Virginia Library

To Eva

A beam upon the myrtle fell
From dewy evening's purest sky,
'Twas like the glance I loved so well,
Dear Eva, from thy moonlight eye.

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I looked around the summer grove,
On every tree its lustre shone;
And all had felt that look of love
The foolish myrtle deemed its own.
Eva! behold thine image there,
As fair, as false thy glances fall;
But who the worthless smile would share
That sheds its light alike on all?