My little love, with soft, brown eyes,
Looks shyly back at me,
Beneath the drooping apple bough,
She thinks I do not see.
I cannot choose, I laugh with her,
I catch her merry glee;
Or stay you near, or go you far,
Oh, little love, how sweet you are!
A hue, like light within a rose,
Is dimpling on her cheek,
It wins a grace, it deepens now
With every airy freak;
A love-light in the rose like this,
Ah, you may vainly seek;
It shines for me, no shadows mar,
Oh, little love, how fair you are!
My heart clings to her pretty words,
They will not be forgot;
My happy brain will not discern,
If they be wise or not.
To ever be so charmed, so blessed,
Ah, this were happy lot.
My own, shine ever like a star
Upon my life, so true you are.
[Illustration: PAPA'S PETS.]