When Night Brings The Hour.

When night brings the hour         Of starlight and joy,     There comes to my bower         A fairy-winged boy;     With eyes so bright,         So full of wild arts,     Like nets of light,         To tangle young hearts;     With lips, in whose keeping         Love's secret may dwell,     Like Zephyr asleep in         Some rosy sea-shell.     Guess who he is,         Name but his name,     And his best kiss         For reward you may claim.     Where'er o'er the ground         He prints his light feet.     The flowers there are found         Most shining and sweet:     His looks, as soft         As lightning in May,     Tho' dangerous oft,         Ne'er wound but in play:     And oh, when his wings         Have brushed o'er my lyre,     You'd fancy its strings         Were turning to fire.     Guess who he is,         Name but his name,     And his best kiss         For reward you may claim.