The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith ... Revised by the Author: Coll. ed. |
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 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
227
MYRA
She was the fairest of all the three;
Yet not at first she caught the eye,
For in her maiden meekness she
Wooed shadow like the primrose shy,
And seventeen summers hardly brought
Her lissom form to perfect grace,
And the great purple eyes still shot
Too large a light on the oval face;
Yet she was fairest of all the three,
E'en were she nothing at all to me.
Yet not at first she caught the eye,
For in her maiden meekness she
Wooed shadow like the primrose shy,
And seventeen summers hardly brought
Her lissom form to perfect grace,
And the great purple eyes still shot
Too large a light on the oval face;
Yet she was fairest of all the three,
E'en were she nothing at all to me.
She was the wisest of them, though
Not so nimble and deft of wit;
But her heart thought, and made her know
What for the loving heart was fit;
And when you touched on higher chords,
With eager eyes and parted lips,
You caught her listening to your words,
Quick with mind to the finger-tips:
For she was wisest of all the three,
Had she been nothing at all to me.
Not so nimble and deft of wit;
But her heart thought, and made her know
What for the loving heart was fit;
And when you touched on higher chords,
With eager eyes and parted lips,
You caught her listening to your words,
Quick with mind to the finger-tips:
For she was wisest of all the three,
Had she been nothing at all to me.
She was the sweetest of them—sweet
As summer air from clover field;
And had a charity complete,
A touch, too, and a word that healed,
And therewith, oh so blithe a heart!
That she would laugh as birds must sing,
But could not play a bitter part
That she might say a clever thing.
Wisest, sweetest, fairest she,
E'en were she nothing at all to me.
As summer air from clover field;
And had a charity complete,
A touch, too, and a word that healed,
And therewith, oh so blithe a heart!
That she would laugh as birds must sing,
But could not play a bitter part
That she might say a clever thing.
Wisest, sweetest, fairest she,
E'en were she nothing at all to me.
And she was all the world to me;
I loved her though she knew it not,
And she loved, though I did not see
She gave me back the love I sought;
We loved, and yet we never wist
Till many years had come and gone;
We never spoke it, never kissed,
But loved in silence and alone.
Fairest, dearest of all the three,
Oh, she was all the world to me.
I loved her though she knew it not,
And she loved, though I did not see
She gave me back the love I sought;
We loved, and yet we never wist
Till many years had come and gone;
We never spoke it, never kissed,
But loved in silence and alone.
Fairest, dearest of all the three,
Oh, she was all the world to me.
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |