On Seeing Through A Distant Window A Belle Completing Her Toilet For A Ball.
By Nathaniel Parker Willis
'Tis well - 'tis well - that clustering shade
Is on thy forehead sweetly laid;
And that light curl that slumbers by
Makes deeper yet thy depth of eye;
And that white rose that decks thy hair
Just wins the eye to linger there,
Yet makes it not to note the less
The beauty of that raven tress.
Thy coral necklace? - ear-rings too?
Nay - nay - not them - no darker hue
Than thy white bosom be to-night
On that fair neck the bar of light,
Or hide the veins that faintly glow
And wander in its living snow.
What! - yet another? can it be
That neck needs ornament to thee? -
Yet not thy jewels! - they are bright,
But that dark eye has softer light,
And tho' each gem had been a star,
Thy simple self were lovelier far -
Yet stay! - that string of matchless pearl?
Nay - wear it - wear it - radiant girl!
For ocean's best of pure and white
Should only be thy foil to-night.
Aye, turn thee round! 'tis lovely all -
Thou'lt have no peer at that gay ball!
And that proud toss! - it makes thee smile
To see how deep is thine own wile;
And that slow look that seems to stray
As each sweet feature made it stay -
And that small finger, lightly laid
On dimpled cheek and glossy braid,
As if to know that all they seem
Is really there, and not a dream -
I wish I knew the gentle thought
By all this living beauty wrought!
I wish I knew if that sweet brow,
That neck on which thou gazest now -
If thy rich lip and brilliant face -
Thy perfect figure's breezy grace -
If these are half the spell to thee
That will, this night, bewilder me!