The Blush

Why that blush on Ella's cheek,
What doth the flitting wand'rer seek?
Doth passion's black'ning tempest scowl,
To agitate my Ella's soul?

Return, sweet wand'rer, fear no harm;
The heart which Ella's breast doth warm,
Is virtue's calm, serene retreat;
And ne'er with passion's storm did beat.

Return, and calmly rest, till love
Shall thy sweet efficacy prove;
Then come, and thy loved place resume,
And fill that cheek with youthful bloom.

A blush of nature charms the heart
More than the brilliant tints of art;
They please awhile, and please no more —
We hate the things we loved before.

But no unfading tints were those,
Which to my Ella's cheek arose;
They please the raptured heart, and fly
Before they pall the gazing eye.,

'T was not the blush of guilt or shame,
Which o'er my Ella's features came;
'T was she, who fed the poor distressed,
'T was she the indigent had blessed;

For her their prayers to heaven were raised,
On her the grateful people gazed;
'T was then the blush suffused her cheek,
Which told what words can never speak.