ove,
Sing forth their little lays of love;
Or to survey the stars come forth,
Or dancing rainbows hug the earth:
These were the pastime and the play,
That whiled her infant hours away.
And blest was sylvan Elfindale,
With child so fair within its pale.

That was a bland and holy morn,
Like one, on very purpose, born,
A gray godmother stood,
Before the chancel's sacred place,
With Frankie's sweet and artless grace,
And heard the preacher good.
And as the bright baptism fell,
Upon her fallen tresses well,
And o'er her bosom's chastened swell,
The beauteous maiden smiled:
She looked a wingless cherub then--
My inmost spirit fluttered, when
I said, O wondrous child!
I thought a troop of angels stood
Amid that lofty fane,
And (I in that ecstatic mood)
They sped to bliss again.
That, whole bright day, I wandered wide,
O'er sunny hill and vale,
And thought no day of brighter pride
E'er lay on Elfindale;
I thought, that day dear Frankie love,
Had been new-linked with those above;
And henceforth angels would attend
The maiden, to her journey's end.

Fair Frankie grew in attributes
That harmonized like golden flutes,
Or harps of silver strain:
She loved the Lovely--growing so,
With every year's advancing flow;--
She was the Death of Pain!
The dwellers in green Elfindale,
Were happier all for her,
The very flowers she loved to trail,
With pleasure's thrill, would stir.
She loved both man and brute that dwelt
Within that vale of Good;
And they, as bettered beings, felt
New virtue--as they should.
And thus a shining, golden chain,
Of many links of love,
Knit Frankie to the peopled plain,
And to the good above.
Affection's wreathed rings of beauty,
Bound round a globe of gold;
It is my verse's pleasing duty,
To say to all, behold,
Sweet Frank that central globe of worth;
That gems, with pride, this spot of earth,
This flower-engirdled, blissful vale,
This heart-delighting Elfindale.

And now when lovely Frankie stood,
In the dear pride of womanhood,
The queen of Elfindale;
One sought her for her loveliness--
A joy--a heaven of happiness--
An earth-born angel meant to bless
My throbbing soul with rich excess
Of joys that never fail.
She sat hid in a garden bower,
Watching the first, sweet star,
That crowns the lovely twilight hour,
And glows to earth from far.
A sad sweet dream op