THE VALENTINES.
The fires of February lit the hearth,
And shone with welcome lustre on the brows
Of two most lovely maidens, as they sat
Expecting, in their heart of hearts, the notes
Called "Valentines," that February brings
Upon its fourteenth day, to tell, in rhyme,
All fair and gentle ladies whether they
Have made new conquests, or have kept the old
As fresh as new-blown roses in the hearts
Of their admiring slaves. One of the girls
(Laughing and lovely was she), ever won
High hearts to do her bidding, dreaming it
No sin that all should yield her love and homage,
Yet was no trifling, passionless coquette.
Her winning beauty was the standing toast
Of the wide neighborhood, and serenades
From many a gallant woke the sleeping echoes
Beneath her window, and her name was like
The silvery pealing of a tinkling bell;
(Perhaps 'tis yours, fair reader,) "Clairinelle."
May sat beside her with a graver air,
Something more matronly controlled her mien;
Yet was she not a sighing "sentimentalist,"
But, like her cousin Cary, could be gay:
Two Valentines had come for these fair girls,
Which made the dimpled smiles show teeth like pearls
Pray, read those tender missives—here they are—