The Girl of My Heart

How sweet is the breeze at eve's modest hour, When it murmurs yon lime trees among; When the blackbird and thrush so enchantingly pour Their melodious sweetness of song; When slowly adown from the warm glowing west, The bright sun is seen to depart, When all passions but love are hush'd into rest, I fly to the girl of my heart.

My Anna is gentle, is lovely and kind, Her bosom true sympathy warms; Enchanting alike are her person and mind, Each possesses a portion of charms; For a maiden so lovely,—a charmer so bright, Who uses no coquetish art; I resign all the trifles that others delight, And fly to the girl of my heart.

Her eyes that so languidly speak soft desire, Her cheeks that so rival the rose, In my bosom the softest emotions inspire, And charm my fond heart to repose; And when her sweet accents enraptur'd I hear, Thro' my soul they so thrillingly dart; Oh! What sounds of sweet melody strike my rapt ear, When I meet—the sweet girl of my heart.