THE FIRST BALL.

New Zealander, Volume 8, Issue 638, 26 May 1852, Page 3

THE FIRST BALL.

They brought rich silks of roseate dye My girlish form to grace, They said no rosy bloom might vie With my young roseate face; They bound rare gems upon my arms, Such as a queen might wear, They said their round and lilied charms Were lovelier and more fair. But when they sought exotic flowers, Japonieas they were, To bloom through all the festive hours, Amid my dark brown hair; With sudden haste in maiden pride, Those jewels I put by, And cast those glowing flowers aside, And would not brook them nigh, I knew my youth a fairer flower A far more precious gem, Than ever shone in Indian bower, On Indian diadem. And so all unadorned I went Into that burst of light, Where every haughty brow unbent, Where every eye grew bright. And many came my hand to seek With softest word and tone — I heard with an unblushing cheek, My heart was mine alone. No flatt'ring tone my pulse could move, I was young — proud — unwon, Untouched by time or care, by love, Yet all unbreathed upon. I've liv'd to wear both flower and gem, Upon a brow less young, To hear fond words and treasure them From a deceitful tongue. I've lived to change my girlish heart So passionless and pure, For one to bear a woman's part To suffer and endure But I've ever kept the memory— I keep it even now — Of that fresh, guilless purity Of that unsullied brow. Oh would that life would let us keep The beauty of our youth! Oh would that we need never weep O'er vanished faith and truth! St George. Auckland, May, 1852,