James Gates Percival (1795–1856)

EARTH holds no fairer, lovelier one than thou,

Maid of the laughing lip and frolic eye!

Innocence sits upon thy open brow

Like a pure spirit in its native sky.

If ever beauty stole the heart away,

Enchantress, it would fly to meet thy smile;

Moments would seem by thee a summer day,

And all around thee an Elysian isle.

Roses are nothing to the maiden blush

Sent o’er thy cheeks’ soft ivory, and night

Has naught so dazzling in its world of light,

As the dark rays that from thy lashes gush.

Love lurks amid thy silken curls, and lies

Like a keen archer in thy kindling eyes.