GLEN.
_Mount Holyoke._
[Illustration: MT. HOLYOKE GIRL.]
~A Bit of Human Nature.~
'Tis only a pair of woman's eyes,
So long-lashed, soft, and brown,
Half hiding the light that in them lies,
As dreamily looking down.
'Tis only the dainty curve of a lip,
Half full, half clear defined,
And the shell-like pink of a finger-tip,
And a figure half reclined.
'Tis only a coil of rich, dark hair,
With sunlight sifted through,
And a truant curl just here and there,
And a knot of ribbon blue.
'Tis only the wave of a feather fan,
That ruffles the creamy lace,
Loose gathered about the bosom fair,
By rhinestones held in place.
'Tis only the toe of a high-heeled shoe,
With the glimpse of a color above--
A stocking tinted a faint sky-blue,
The shade that lovers love.
'Tis only a woman--a woman, that's all,
And, as only a woman can,
Bringing a heart to her beck and call
By waving her feather fan.
'Tis only a woman, and I--'twere best
To forget that waving fan.
She only a woman--you know the rest?
But I am only a man.
CHARLES WASHINGTON COLEMAN.
_Virginia University Magazine._
~Her Little Glove.~
Her little glove, I dare aver,
Would set your pulses all astir;
It hides a something safe from sight
So soft and warm, so small and white,
A cynic would turn flatterer!
Could Pegasus have better spur?
'Twould almost cause a saint to err--
A Puritan to grow polite--
Her little glove.
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