Thistle Down

By Ethel

Young Girl

Young girl...thou art that,
From heaven you were gotten.
Love grew you to your age,
With curls, and braids, and cotton.

Sweet is your countenance,
And charming is your style.
A little giggle in your throat,
And lovely...is your smile.

Reflected pools are in your eyes,
And light shines on your hair.
A soft kiss on your velvet cheek,
Just left a dimple there.

You walk along the pathway,
With gestures that are fine.
A loose skirt falls around your feet,
In prints of rare design.

For you are like an aspen-tree,
Your lithesome body bends.
The springs upon your dancing toes,
With motion never ends.

So sweetly draped in innocence,
T'is of your worth...we laud.
Your stairway up to womanhood,
Fulfills the works of God.


E.P. 1908 - 1989

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