She would seem infantile, but that her brow
In lilied majesty uptowers, and tells
That lofty thoughts and chasten'd pride are there.
Mrs. Gilman.
8. Oh, the words
Laugh on her lips; the motion of her smiles
Showers beauty, as the air-caressed spray
The dews of morning; and her stately steps
Are light, as though a winged angel trod
Over earth's flowers, and fear'd to brush away