Ask me where beauty is, I'll say
'Tis in sweet maiden's witchery;
Amid the beams of her flashing eye
When pleasure's cup is sparkling high,
And new-born love's first artless glances
Illume her brow,
And joy within her young heart dances
For the first vow;
When she knows not ofo blighting care,
And all is bright, and fresh, and fair;
And fancy's banner is unfurled,
Tinting with rose her future world;
Nor cloud, nor mist dims in her eye
The sunshine of life's morning sky,
That, with such gay and golden beams,
Colours her happy youth with dreams.
Beauty is where the crimson streak
Tints the pale snow of woman's cheek,
When suff'ring virtue meekly bends
Before the chast'ning heav'n sends;
And Christian patience mildly shows
The heart with sacred fervour glows;
And love intense, for Him who bore
Severer woe, heals all her sore;
Shedding a soft and holy gloom
O'er her long passage to the tomb.
Where infant purity may be,
Almost divine, there beauty see;
Guileless and lovely you behold
Reason its wondrous powers unfold,
And hail, with almost godlike love,
The gifts that image him above;
With rosy health and graceful mirth,
Showing angels still dwell on earth!
In manhood's prime, with mind well stored,
Majestic, wise, and God adored;
When genius from the flashing eye
Is tempered with mild dignity;
And sweet benevolence displays
O'er all its soft and gentle rays--
There you may see its classic lines,
With noble thought and high designs,
Modell'd by Nature's plastic hand,
A perfect work!--sublime and grand!
Stamped with the type of Truth, and seal'd
With heav'nly hope, till heav'n's revealed!
