Thine eyes are the stars of the morning,
Thy breath is the breath of the rose;
And bright as the blossoms thy bosom adorning,
The crimson that in thy cheek glows.
Thou smilest now on us, thou wanton,
But I've seen thee as chill and morose
As the wintry gray banners that flaunt on
The mystical City of Snows.
Yet thine eyes are so often beclouded,
And so oft thy vermillion cheeks fade,
That it cannot far longer be doubted--
Thou'rt naught but a fair, fickle--jade!
