MY ISABEL.
.She makes me think of a sweet, wild rose, Klooming alone in some mossy dell— A fair little bud that boftly grows, Charming all ej es, my Isabel. She makes me think of a snow-white dove, Pure and shining as though it fell Straight from some sinless world above, JMj innocent, high-souled Isabel! When the morningsun doth the shadowschasc And rosy clouds the dawn foretell, I think of my darling's flower-like face— ] loses and lilies, my I&abel! If, drifting soft o'er the rippling tide, To my ear there floats a gentle swell Of music sweet, my thoughts aye glide Swift and sure to my Isabel. Fresh and bright as the .summer rain, Pure and clear as a springing well! Oli! could L but shield thee from every pain, And keep thee happy, my Isabel. ' Tis little she knows of the power that lies And little she dreams of the witching spell Asleep in the depths of her lovely eyes. There's one has felt it, my Isabel. I love thee, dear, and thine image fair Evermore in my heart shall dwell; No flood could quench the love I bear To thee, my darling Isabel. Sigma.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TAN18880530.2.28.1
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Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 268, 30 May 1888, Page 3
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196MY ISABEL. Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 268, 30 May 1888, Page 3
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