Classic Poem

Oh, Lady Jane, dear Lady Jane,
Those beautiful and earnest eyes
Have shot their beams through many a brain,
And prompted many a world of sighs.
No wonder! — stony-hard and cold
Were he, who gazing on their light —
Ay, were he eighty winters old —
Felt no pulsation of delight.

But tell us, dearest Lady Jane,
What secret witchery and spell
Hast thou to rule the hearts of men,
That not the hardest can rebel?
The hearts of men? — Not theirs alone;
For women do not love thee less;
Thou hast some secret of thine own,
Thou saucy little sorceress!

The blind old beggar on the road,
Fed by thy bounty, loves thee more
For gentle sympathy bestowed,
Than for the tribute from thy store.
The peevish beldame, sour'd by want,
And teased by urchins far and near,
Selects thee for her confidant,
And breathes her sorrows in thine ear.

The kittens on the hearth prefer
Thy soft caress, than ours more sweet;
And jealous hound, and snarling cur
Frolic with pleasure at thy feet.
The parrot swinging to and fro,
That sulks at others talks to thee;
And tearful babes forget their woe
And cuddle, happy, round thy knee.

In fact, there's something, lady dear,
In thee, and on thee, and about,
A power — a charm — an atmosphere —
A fascination in and out,
That make all creatures, high and low,
Love thee and trust thee. Tell us, then,
The reason why we love thee so —
Thou little fairy, Lady Jane!

What can it be? — for I confess
I know of beauty great as thine; —
Yet if it be not loveliness,
'Tis something in thee more divine.
'Tis not thy wit — or eloquence —
And thou hast both in ample store;
'Tis not thy birth — or wealth — or sense —
That makes us captive evermore.

What is it then? — Thou canst not say —
Then let me tell thee, Lady Jane:
'Tis bright good humor, warm as day —
'Tis sympathy for others' pain —
'Tis heart, and mind, and patience rich —
'Tis loving-kindness, failing never; —
These are thy spells, thou potent witch —
We can't resist — we're thine for ever!