Smith, Effie Waller
|ON DUTY'S KNOB.|
The flush of a beautiful sunrise
Had gently melted away
And left no trace in the eastern sky
One morning early in May.
When with tiresome steps we'd climbed the slope
Of yon distant mountain high,
And were standing on its sunkissed top
'Neath a purple tinted sky.
With joy we listened to the birds
As we drank the sunshine in.
Far away we saw the town, but heard
We not its noise and din.
Breathed we the invigorating air
As beneath a copious shade
We sat and plucked the flowers fair
Which we into bouquets made.
With fragrance sweet they were scented
Some were purple, some were gay.
But fairer than those flowers which
We plucked and then threw away,
Was your own lovely expressive face
Which anon was pensive then gay,
To me it had every womanly grace
As I looked at it that day.