Classic Poem

There is a magic in thy smile
I shall not feel again,
Which melts into my heart the while,
Like music's mournful strain:

Though light and gay that smile may be,
As the sunbeam on the waters,
Its power is deeper upon me
Than the smile of beauty's daughters.

Like some young flower, thou blossomest,
Without a fear on earth;
Deep feelings, in thy tranquil breast,
Are blent with graceful mirth:

Belovèd one, thou standest now,
In our dim vale of years,
Just where the streams of childhood flow
Into Life's sea of tears.

I know not, and I would not know,
What Fate prepares for thee;
I know not, whether joy or woe
Will change the soul I see.

The cherished rose may droop and die,
Or beam in beauty's brightness;
But its deepest blush can never vie
With the rosebud's maiden whiteness.