BLONDINE.

I wandered through a careless world

Deceived when not deceiving,

And never gave an idle heart

The rapture of believing.

The smiles, the sighs, the glancing eyes,

Of many hundred comers

Swept by me, light as rose-leaves blown

From long-forgotten summers.

But never eyes so deep and bright

And loyal in their seeming,

And never smiles so full of light

Have shone upon my dreaming.

The looks and lips so gay and wise,

The thousand charms that wreathe them,

— Almost I dare believe that truth

Is safely shrined beneath them.

Ah! do they shine, those eyes of thine,

But for our own misleading?

The fresh young smile, so pure and fine,

Does it but mock our reading?

Then faith is fled, and trust is dead,

And unbelief grows duty,

If fraud can wield the triple arm

Of youth and wit and beauty.