28. Around her playful lips do glitter
Heat lightnings of a girlish scorn,
Harmless they are, for nothing bitter
In that dear heart was ever born.
That merry heart, that cannot lie
Within its warm nest quietly,
But ever from the full dark eye
Is looking kindly, night and morn.
J. R. Lowell.
29. Oh, her glance is the brightest that ever has shone,