ON A PICTURE.
 
        Why bends she o'er that glittering toy
            With such an earnest gaze,
        As if those flashing jewels cast
            Love glances in their rays?
 
        By that high, thought-enthronéd brow --
            That deep and soul-lit eye,
        I know 'tis not the passing dream
            Of woman's vanity.
 
        I know that in its golden links
            Some talisman is set,
        And for the heart it rests upon,
            'Tis Love's own amulet.
 
        Oh, may that heart, so joyous now,
            No heavier burden bear;
        The beauty of that noble brow,
            No deeper shadow wear.
 
        Alas! how vain the wish, for souls
            That wildest rapture know,
        Must vibrate with a keener pang,
            To every note of woe.