Sometimes she dons a robe of green, Sometimes a robe of snowy white, But, in whatever garb she's seen, It seems most beautiful and right, And is the loveliest to my sight. V. Not I her lover am alone, Yet unto all she doth suffice, None jealous is, and every one Reads love and truth within her eyes, And deemeth her his own dear prize. VI. And so thou art, Eternal Nature! Yes, bride of Heaven, so thou art; Thou, wholly lovest every creature, Giving to each no stinted part, But filling every peaceful heart. TO E. W. G. "Dear Child! dear happy Girl! if thou appear Heedless--untouched with awe or serious thought, Thy nature is not therefore less divine: Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year; And worship'st at the Temple's inner shrine, God being with thee when we know it not." --_Wordsworth._ As through a strip of sunny light A white dove flashes swiftly on, So suddenly before my sight Thou gleamed'st a moment and wert gone; And yet I long shall bear in mind The pleasant thoughts thou left'st behind. Thou mad'st me happy with thine eyes, And happy with thine open smile, And, as I write, sweet memories Come thronging round me all the while; Thou mad'st me happy with thine eyes-- And gentle feelings long forgot Looked up and oped their eyes, Like violets when they see a spot Of summer in the skies. Around thy playful lips did glitter Heat-lightnings of a girlish scorn; Harmless they were, for nothing bitter In thy dear heart was ever born-- That merry heart that could not lie Within its warm nest quietly, But ever from each full, dark eye Was looking kindly night and morn. There was an archness in thine eyes, Born of the gentlest mockeries, And thy light laughter rang as clear As water-drops I loved to hear In days of boyhood, as they fell Tinkling far down the dim, still well; And with its sound come back once more The feelings of my early years, And half aloud I murmured o'er-- "Sure I have heard that sound before, It is so pleasant in mine ears." Whenever thou didst look on me I thought of merry birds, And something of spring's melody Came to me in thy words; Thy thoughts did dance and bound along Like happy children in their play, Whose hearts run over into song For gladness of the summer's day; And mine grew dizzy with the sight, Still feeling lighter and more light, Till, joining hands, they whirled away, As blithe and merrily as they. I bound a larch-twig round with flowers, Which thou didst twine among thy hair, And gladsome were the few, short hours When I was with thee there; So now that thou art far away, Safe-nestled in thy warmer clime, In memory of a happier day I twine this simple wreath of rhyme.