O beauty! in the dimple of thy cheek,

My love could live forever and be blest.

There, with the sun, a rose-bud on thy breast,

How thou rejoicest, hastening to speak

To thy fond Father! Oh, how vain to seek

A sweeter refuge for the Spirit's rest,

Than mid thy blushes, when thou marvelest

At His great love, for, oh! thy heart is meek.

Oh beauty! in thy Father's arms, thou art.

Enclose me in thy dimple; for, though this

Were but a bud, or molded seed, what bliss

To watch bloom gather scent, or new life start,

And hear our Father, bending for a kiss,

Whisper to thee, the secrets of His heart!