Miriam.

White clouds and buds and birds and bees,     Low wind-notes piped from southern seas,     Brought thee a rose-white offering,     A flower-like baby with the Spring.     She, as her April, gave to thee     A soul of winsome vagary;     Large, heavenly eyes, and tender, whence     Shone the sweet mind's soft influence;     Where all the winning woman, that     Welled up in tears, high sparkling sat.     She, with the dower of her May,     Gave thee a nature that could sway     Wild men with kindness, and a pride     Which all their littleness denied.     Limbs wrought of lilies and a face     Bright as a rose flower's, and a grace,     God-taught, that clings like happiness     In each chaste billow of thy dress.     She, as her heavy June, brought down     Night deeps of hair thy brow to crown;     A voice so mild and musical     It is as water-notes that fall     O'er bars of pearl, and in thy heart     Stamped like a jewel, that should start     From thy pure face in smiles, and break     Like radiance when it laughed or spake,     Affection that is born of truth     And goodness which make very youth.