Moulded and fashioned finely,
With tall, lithe, rounded form,
And graceful mien and manner,
Her beauty to adorn.
Without one graceless effort,
And perfected by art,
She gave a faithful rendering
Of her adopted part.
Her every turn and movement
Was poetry and grace,
Which lent a sweet enchantment
To her expressive face.
Supported splendidly by all
The other artists there,
Who well deserve with her, their star,
The public praise to share.
Would that we had more artists
As natural as she,
Then might the stage a mirror
Of true life prove to be.
THE SHAKER GIRL
I met a pleasant, thoughtful girl,
Fresh from a homely band
Of Shaker brethren who fare well
In this far Western land.
I talked to her of earthly love,
She answered with a sigh;
I sought to know the hidden truth,
And asked the reason why
She would prefer a Shaker's life,
Pleasant though it might be,
To working in the free, grand world,
Consistently and free,
With household duties wooing her,
And babies on her knee?
She blushed a trifle, and looked shy,
Confessed the truth was plain,
That if "some one" should ever come
And seek her love again,
She would, with all her loving heart,
Accept his profferred hand,
And leave her Shaker friends with him,
For any clime or land;
But that she doubted that the love
He once professed was o'er,
And that she feared that it for her
Was quenched for evermore;
And so she guessed she'd best return
To her calm Shaker home,
And curb the feelings of her heart,
And never seek to roam.
O Shaker maiden, pause, I pray,
Take further earnest thought,
Nor stay the longings of your heart,
With heaven-born nature fraught
Duties there are on every side,
Awaiting willing hands,
All unrestricted, unconfined
By any creeds or lands.
Sweet ties of home are holier far,
Spontaneous acts more true,
Than any Shaker work ordained
For man to struggle through.