With a gold and pearl shell crayon
Oh! that this gift, dear maiden mine,
Could trace upon thy heart
The magic of the love divine
Which passion would impart!
A meetness in thy soul t'will fend,
So bright and free from guile,
Its pearl, an image of thy mind,
Its gold, thy sunny smile.
And in thy fairy fingers light,
Oh! let its tracings rare
Be but o'er pages virgin white
As thy sweet soul is fair!