/ •• 
120 flora’s’ album. 
WMte Idly. 
“ How chaste yon lily’s rohe of white.”—"W m. Peters. 
PUEITT. 
* * * ♦ 
Pure as an infant’s heart that sin ne’er touched, 
And guilt had ne’er polluted; and she seemed 
Most like an angel that had missed its way 
On some kind mission Heaven had hade it go. 
Her eye beamed bright with beauty ; and innocence 
Its dulcet notes breathed forth in every word, — 
Was seen in every motion that she made. 
Her form was faultless, and her golden hair 
In long luxuriant tresses floated o’er 
Her shoulders, that as alabaster shone. 
Her very look seemed to impart a sense 
Of matchless purity to all it met. 
I saw her in the crowd; yet none were there 
That seemed so pure as she; and every eye 
That met her eye’s mild glance, shrank back 
abashed. 
It spake such innocence. ■** * 
* # * * 
» John S. Adams. 
