Mabel by Samuel Minturn Peck

Mabel

In the woods young Mabel stands
Loitering by an opening;
Ferns and flowers are in her hands
Just this morning's blossoming;
Blue sky to the fir-tops bends,
To see fair Mabel loitering.

The heavens, methinks, are glad to see
Grace and beauty such as hers ;
Methinks the pines would neighbors be
Long time and larch and sombre firs ;-
For such a bit of jollity
Is not in all the universe.

They are sad, and sigh, and moan -

Never laugh, a pleasant laugh;

But she is glad, as if alone

Of all Earth's gladness she were half.

Hear their pining monotone

Stilled to make way for her laugh!

" Ha! ha! ha! " a liquid note,

Like a brook within a dell,

Or a wood-thrush in his grot,

Singing just where, none can tell;

See her pretty, pearly throat,

With her bosom fall and swell!