A WOMAN'S SOLILOQUY BEFORE HER MIRROR.

Waikato Times, Volume XXV, Issue 2087, 21 November 1885, Page 2 (Supplement)

A WOMAN'S SOLILOQUY BEFORE HER MIRROR.

An wherefore do I seek to twine Thia wilful mwB of hair Around thia common face of mine To make it look more fair ? For be it rosy, be it pal<\ It matters nought to htm ; And yet, becauee my eitoita fail, My foolish eyes grow dim Ah, v/hrrefore does the crimson blood Keep rushing to my hrow? I would not win Mm if I could — 'Tis pride is whit-ptrinj,'. Then why, 'midat tutlrs vain like thefle, My preciouH moments wa°to? Theee simple braids will curtly ple&so His fine artistic taste. 'Tii Love ia whispering in rnino car : Begone, thou wicked wprite 1 For when thy poutiDß lips are near, I loso my senpes qmtf. Down with thy bow, thou reckfees boy 1 Thou dost not understand The dangers of that gliUnriug toy Within tby dimpled hand. This simple robe of quiet shado Will suit my figure best ; Ab, would I were a fairer maid, Then might my hope* bo blest ! " There are no eyeß, " I've heard him Bay, " Like eyes of azure hue ;" Mine, Mine, alas ; are eciuibio grey '• Ob, would my cjes v»ero blue ! What care I where his Rlanos rove ? What cam I whom he pmipe? My heart would scorn to crave his love, Or thrill beneath his gaze. I will not mingle in the dance, For maidens lithe and tall Must over claim his kindling glance ! Oh, why am I ao small ? Again I feel the fluttering winga, Thou elf of mischief dtrc ; A chord within my spirit sings, Eeiponsive to thy lyro. Thou wilful boy, my heart release ; Thy fetters make it sore ; Ob, give it back it 3 olden peace ; Oh, Bet it free once moid My dreescg lie a crumpled heap (Ab, such is woman's lot) ; I love not him, and yet I weep Because ho loves mo not. Tears, tearß unto mine eyelids rush ; I cannot choose but sigh ; And love shines forth in every blush, To Bhow my lips they lie ! * • * * • * Hark ! 'tis his footstep on the stair 1 Why do I turn bo weak ? His kiss is on my tangled hair — His breath upon my cheek 1 All that hia lovo bestows on me, With gratoful joy I take, And wish that I could lovely be, And gifted, for his sake Fanxi Foisbesteb.