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A SONG TO BELINDA, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Belinda in her dimity
Last Line: And turn into a flower.
Alternate Author Name(s): Faulks, Frederick J., Mrs.


BELINDA in her dimity,
Whereon are wrought pink roses,
Trips through the boxwood paths to me,
A-down the garden closes,
As though a hundred roses came,
('Twas so I thought) to meet me,
As though one rosebud said my name
And bent its head to greet me.

Belinda, in your rose-wrought dress
You seemed the garden's growing;
The tilt and toss o' you, no less
Than wind-swayed posy blowing.
'Twas so I watched in sweet dismay,
Lest in that happy hour,
Sudden you'd stop and thrill and sway
And turn into a flower.





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