FIRST GLANCE.

A budding mouth and warm blue eyes;

A laughing face;— and laughing hair,

So ruddy does it rise

From off that forehead fair;

Frank fervor in whate'er she said,

And a shy grace when she was still;

A bright, elastic tread;

Enthusiastic will;

These wrought the magic of a maid

As sweet and sad as the sun in spring,

Joyous, yet half-afraid

Her joyousness to sing.

What weighs the unworthiness of earth

When beauty such as this finds birth?

Rare maid, to look on thee

Gives all things harmony!