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A face that had a story to tell. How different faces are in this
particular! Some of them speak read more
A face that had a story to tell. How different faces are in this
particular! Some of them speak not. They are books in which not
a line is written, save perhaps a date.
There is a garden in her face,
Where roses and white lilies blow;
A heavenly paradise is read more
There is a garden in her face,
Where roses and white lilies blow;
A heavenly paradise is that place,
Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow.
There cherries grow that none may buy,
Till cherry ripe themselves do cry.
How some they have died, and some they have left me,
And some are taken from me; all are read more
How some they have died, and some they have left me,
And some are taken from me; all are departed;
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
And to his eye
There was but one beloved face on earth,
And that was shining on read more
And to his eye
There was but one beloved face on earth,
And that was shining on him.
I am who I am and I say what I think. I'm not putting a face on for the record.
I am who I am and I say what I think. I'm not putting a face on for the record.
Oh! could you view the melody
Of every grace,
And music of her face,
read more
Oh! could you view the melody
Of every grace,
And music of her face,
You'd drop a tear,
Seeing more harmony
In her bright eye,
Than now you hear.
Cheek . . .
Flushing white and mellow'd red;
Gradual tints, as when there glows
read more
Cheek . . .
Flushing white and mellow'd red;
Gradual tints, as when there glows
In snowy milk the bashful rose.
And her face so fair
Stirr'd with her dream, as rose-leaves with the air.
And her face so fair
Stirr'd with her dream, as rose-leaves with the air.