When Colours Speak in mortal Visage Tender,
Like Blushing Blossoms new on Fairest Spring,
The Lightest Smile of Grace would, Willing, render
All the Mercies of Thy Song to, Endless, Sing.
In Spirals Bright as Palest Morn upon yon Waking Hill,
And Timid Blush that warms the Maiden Cheek,
Thy Beauty dost Inhibit and dost Thrill,
While I, in Wonder Bound, Thy Smile Seek.
Thy hapless Dance of Earliest Season Greet,
As Golden Shimmers from the Crowned Sky do Fall,
Yet I would Abide, Delighted, at Thy Feet,
And Compass All my World In Thy Fair Hall,
But Spring does Fade as Beauty with its Ebbs,
And Tawny Autumn Comes too soon with Gossamer Webs.
Beautiful Original Artwork by: Michelle Phelan