Girl Of Mine

Oh, her frock is crisp and white, And her hair is curled up tight To her roguish little head, just like an aureole of light. Not a heart but she could win With the ribbon at her chin And her cheeks that have such very little merry dimples in.

Ah, the laughter in her eyes, And the wonder and surprise As she toddles through the waving grass in search of butterflies; And the flowers nod and sway In their love of her and say By their homage as she passes she’s a fairer flower than they.

Ah, the sweetness and the grace In her radiant little face As she scampers through the sunlight in her airy, fairy race; How the roguish laughter trips From the gateway of her lips Like the lilting of the robin through the leafy bough that slips.

And the birds in branches high Seem to join her merry cry, And to chirp a fearless greeting as she gaily toddles by; And so light her footsteps fall That the clover blossoms call: “See! She stepped on us in passing but we’re scarcely bruised at all!”