An "Idyl" Of The Ball.

I.     In reel, in waltz, in lancer's maze,         She moved with pretty air of grace,     And all the ball-room's brilliant blaze         Seemed borrowed brightness from her face!     O, winsome maid, demure and sweet!         I'll ne'er forget when first I met her,     And saw the dainty slippered feet         Glide o'er the floor at Linnietta! II.     O, dreams of youth and beauty rare,         What rose-hued visions thou canst paint!     But none in loveliness compare         With her who seemed Love's patron saint!     Her pictured image haunts the mind,         And, oh, I never can forget her,     Nor rarer pleasure hope to find         Than dance with her at Linnietta! III.     Arrayed in softly flowing gown,         The love-light flashing from her eyes--     With cheeks aglow like roses blown         Beneath the ardent summer skies--     No artist hand could fitly trace         The wondrous charm that did beset her,     When tripping with a fairy's grace         O'er the waxen floor at Linnietta!