She moved upon this earth a shape of brightness, A power, that from its objects scarcely drew One impulse of her being--in her lightness Most like some radiant cloud of morning dew, Which wanders through the waste air's pathless blue, To nourish some far desert; she did seem Beside me, gathering beauty as she grew, Like the bright shade of some immortal dream Which walks, when tempest sleeps, the wave of life's dark stream.

As mine own shadow was this child to me.

This playmate sweet, This child of twelve years old.

PERCY BYSSHE Sh.e.l.lEY

_From "The Revolt of Islam."_

_Chloe_

It was the charming month of May, When all the flowers were fresh and gay, One morning by the break of day, The youthful charming Chloe From peaceful slumbers she arose, Girt on her mantle and her hose, And o'er the flowery mead she goes, The youthful charming Chloe.

Lovely was she by the dawn, Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe, Tripping o'er the pearly lawn, The youthful charming Chloe.

The feather'd people you might see, Perch'd all around on every tree, In notes of sweetest melody They hail the charming Chloe; Till painting gay the eastern skies, The glorious sun began to rise, Out-rivall'd by the radiant eyes Of youthful, charming Chloe.

Lovely was she by the dawn, Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe, Tripping o'er the pearly lawn, The youthful, charming Chloe.

ROBERT BURNS.

_O Mally's Meek, Mally's Sweet_

As I was walking up the street, A barefit maid I chanced to meet; But O the road was very hard For that fair maiden's tender feet.

O Mally's meek, Mally's sweet, Mally's modest and discreet, Mally's rare, Mally's fair, Mally's every way complete.

It were more meet that those fine feet Were weel laced up in silken shoon, And 'twere more fit that she should sit Within yon chariot gilt aboon.

Her yellow hair, beyond compare, Comes trinkling down her swan-white neck, And her two eyes, like stars in skies, Would keep a sinking ship frae wreck.

O Mally's meek, Mally's sweet, Mally's modest and discreet, Mally's rare, Mally's fair, Mally's every way complete.

ROBERT BURNS.

_Who Is Silvia?_

Who is Silvia? What is she, That all our swains commend her?

Holy, fair, and wise is she; The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be.

Is she kind as she is fair?

For beauty lives with kindness: Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness; And, being helped, inhabits there.

Then to Silvia let us sing, That Silvia is excelling; She excels each mortal thing Upon the dull earth dwelling; To her let us garlands bring.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

_From "The Two Gentlemen of Verona."_

_To Mistress Margaret Hussey_

Merry Margaret As midsummer flower-- Gentle as falcon, Or hawk of the tower; With solace and gladness, Much mirth and no madness, All good and no badness; So joyously, So maidenly, So womanly Her demeaning,-- In everything Far, far pa.s.sing That I can indite Or suffice to write, Of merry Margaret, As midsummer flower, Gentle as falcon Or hawk of the tower; As patient and as still, And as full of good-will, As fair Isiphil, Coliander, Sweet Pomander, Good Ca.s.sander; Steadfast of thought, Well made, well wrought; Far may be sought Ere you can find So courteous, so kind, As merry Margaret, This midsummer flower-- Gentle as falcon Or hawk of the tower.

JOHN SKELTON.

_Ruth_

She stood breast-high amid the corn, Clasp'd by the golden light of morn, Like the sweetheart of the sun, Who many a glowing kiss had won.

On her cheek an autumn flush.

Deeply ripened;--such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn.

Round her eyes her tresses fell, Which were blackest none could tell, But long lashes veil'd a light That had else been all too bright.

And her hat, with shady brim, Made her tressy forehead dim;-- Thus she stood amid the stooks, Praising G.o.d with sweetest looks.

"Sure," I said, "Heav'n did not mean Where I reap thou shouldst but glean; Lay thy sheaf adown and come, Share my harvest and my home."

THOMAS HOOD.

_My Peggy_

My Peggy is a young thing, Just entered in her teens, Fair as the day, and sweet as May, Fair as the day, and always gay, My Peggy is a young thing, And I'm not very auld, Yet well I like to meet her at The wauking of the fauld.

My Peggy sings sae saftly, When on my pipe I play; By a' the rest it is confest, By a' the rest, that she sings best.

My Peggy sings sae saftly, And in her sangs are tauld, With innocence, the wale of sense, At wauking of the fauld.

ALLAN RAMSAY.

_From "The Gentle Shepherd."_

_Annie Laurie_

Maxwelton braes are bonnie Where early fa's the dew, And it's there that Annie Laurie Gie'd me her promise true,-- Gie'd me her promise true, Which ne'er forgot will be; And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me doune and dee.

Her brow is like the snawdrift, Her throat is like the swan, Her face it is the fairest That e'er the sun shone on,-- That e'er the sun shone on; And dark blue is her e'e; And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me doune and dee.

Like dew on the gowan lying Is the fa' o' her fairy feet; Like the winds in summer sighing, Her voice is low and sweet,-- Her voice is low and sweet; And she's a' the world to me; And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me doune and dee.

WILLIAM DOUGLAS OF FINGLAND.