Portrait

Her eyes? Dark pools of deepest shade, Like sylvan lakes that lie In some sequestered forest glade Beneath a starry sky. Her cheeks? The ripened chestnut’s hue,— Rich autumn’s sun-kissed brown! Caressed by sunbeams dancing through Red leaves that flutter down. Her form? A slender pine that sways Before the murmuring breeze In summer, when the south wind plays Soft music through the trees. Herself? A laughing, joyous sprite Who smiles from dawn till dark, As lovely as a summer night And carefree as a lark.