Classic Poem

They stood above the world,
— In a world apart;
And she dropped her happy eyes,
And stilled the throbbing pulses
— Of her happy heart.
And the moonlight fell above her,
Her secret to discover;
— And the moonbeams kissed her hair,
As though no human lover
— Had laid his kisses there.

" Look up, brown eyes, " he said,
— " And answer mine;
Lift up those silken fringes
That hide a happy light
— Almost divine. "
The jealous moonlight drifted
To the finger half-uplifted,
— Where shone the opal ring —
Where the colors danced and shifted
— On the pretty, changeful thing.

Just the old, old story
— Of light and shade,
Love like the opal tender,
Like it may be to vary —
— May be to fade.
Just the old tender story,
Just a glimpse of morning glory
— In an earthly Paradise,
With shadowy reflections
— In a pair of sweet brown eyes.

Brown eyes a man might well
— Be proud to win!
Open to hold his image,
Shut under silken lashes,
— Only to shut him in.
O glad eyes, look together,
For life's dark, stormy weather
— Grows to a fairer thing
When young eyes look upon it
— Through a slender wedding ring.