Beautiful Hands.

O your hands - they are strangely fair!      Fair - for the jewels that sparkle there, -      Fair - for the witchery of the spell      That ivory keys alone can tell;      But when their delicate touches rest      Here in my own do I love them best,      As I clasp with eager acquisitive spans      My glorious treasure of beautiful hands!      Marvelous - wonderful - beautiful hands!      They can coax roses to bloom in the strands      Of your brown tresses; and ribbons will twine,      Under mysterious touches of thine,      Into such knots as entangle the soul,      And fetter the heart under such a control      As only the strength of my love understands -      My passionate love for your beautiful hands.      As I remember the first fair touch      Of those beautiful hands that I love so much,      I seem to thrill as I then was thrilled,      Kissing the glove that I found unfilled -      When I met your gaze, and the queenly bow,      As you said to me, laughingly, "Keep it now!"      And dazed and alone in a dream I stand      Kissing this ghost of your beautiful hand.      When first I loved, in the long ago,      And held your hand as I told you so -      Pressed and caressed it and gave it a kiss,      And said "I could die fora hand like this!"      Little I dreamed love's fulness yet      Had to ripen when eyes were wet,      And prayers were vain in their wild demands      For one warm touch of your beautiful hands.      Beautiful Hands! O Beautiful Hands!      Could you reach out of the alien lands      Where you are lingering, and give me, to-night,      Only a touch - were it ever so light -      My heart were soothed, and my weary brain      Would lull itself into rest again;      For there is no solace the world commands      Like the caress of your beautiful hands.