Margaret Poem by Jean Blewett
Margaret
Her eyes-upon a summer's day
God's skies are not more blue than they.
Her hair-you've seen a sunbeam bold
Made up of just such threads of gold.
Her cheek-the leaf which nearest grows
The dewy heart of June's red rose.
Her mouth-full lipped, and subtly sweet
As brier drowned in summer heat.
Her heart-December's chill and snow;
Heaven pity me, who love her so!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/25/2024 6:03:07 PM # 1.0.0.1119
