=Joel Chandler Harris,[106] 1846-.=
=433.= "AGNES."
She has a tender, winning way,
And walks the earth with gentle grace,
And roses with the lily play
Amid the beauties of her face.
When'er she tunes her voice to sing,
The song-birds list, with anxious looks,
For it combines the notes of spring
With all the music of the brooks.
Her merry laughter, soft and low,
Is as the chimes of silver bells,—
That like sweet anthems float, and flow
Through woodland groves and bosky dells,
And when the violets see her eyes,
They flush and glow—with love and shame,
They meekly droop with sad surprise,
As though unworthy of the name.
But still they bloom where'er she throws
Her dainty glance and smiles so sweet.
And e'en amid stern winter's snows
The daisies spring beneath her feet.
She wears a crown of Purity,
Full set with woman's brightest gem,—
A wreath of maiden modesty,
And Virtue is the diadem.
And when the pansies bloom again,
And spring and summer intertwine.
Great joys will fall on me like rain,
For she will be for ever mine!
[Footnote 106: A native of Georgia; is deemed one of the best of the younger poets of the South.]