I do love the dark, the fair,
Golden ringlets, raven hair,
Eye that swims in sunny light,
Glance that shoots like lightning bright.
I do love the stately dame
And the sportive girl the same;
Every changeful phase between
Blooming cheek and brow serene.
I do love the young, the old,
Maiden modest, virgin bold,
Tiny beauties, and the tall—
Earth has room enough for all.
Which is better—who can say?—
Lucy grave or Mary gay?
She who half her charms conceals?
She who sparkles while she feels?
Why should I confine my love?
Nature bids us freely rove;
God hath scatter'd wide the fair,
Blooms and beauties everywhere.
Paris was a pedant fool,
Meting beauty by a rule:
Pallas? Juno? Venus?—he
Should have chosen all the three.
I am wise, life's every bliss
Thankful tasting; and a kiss
Is a sweet thing, I declare,
From a dark maid or a fair.
LIKING AND LOVING.
Liking is a little boy
Dreaming of a sea employ,
Sitting by the stream, with joy
Paper frigates sailing:
Love 's an earnest-hearted man,
Champion of beauty's clan,
Fighting bravely in the van,
Pushing and prevailing.