 | Duganne's Poetical Works |  |
TO MY LADY.
COME hither, lady! come!
Thou art gloriously fair—
And thine eyes are purer, brighter,
Than the jewels in thy hair.
There is music in thy motions—
There is perfume in thy smile;
Gentle lady! wilt thou listen
To the Poet's song awhile?
Thou art gloriously fair—
And thine eyes are purer, brighter,
Than the jewels in thy hair.
There is music in thy motions—
There is perfume in thy smile;
Gentle lady! wilt thou listen
To the Poet's song awhile?
I'll tell thee, lady bright!
Nay, incline thy lofty head!—
I will tell thee of thy sisters,
Who are famishing for bread!
Through the weary midnight toiling,
Through the chill and dreary day;
They are sisters, lovely lady!
Pr'ythee, list the Poet's lay!
Nay, incline thy lofty head!—
I will tell thee of thy sisters,
Who are famishing for bread!
Through the weary midnight toiling,
Through the chill and dreary day;
They are sisters, lovely lady!
Pr'ythee, list the Poet's lay!
341
Thy sisters call to thee—
O thou beautiful and bright!
See! their eyes are dull and sunken,
And their cheeks so thin and white!
Look! their foreheads burn with fever,
While their hearts are chill with fear:
Thou art weeping, beauteous lady;—
Heaven bless thee for that tear!
O thou beautiful and bright!
See! their eyes are dull and sunken,
And their cheeks so thin and white!
Look! their foreheads burn with fever,
While their hearts are chill with fear:
Thou art weeping, beauteous lady;—
Heaven bless thee for that tear!
List! gentle lady, list:—
Thou wilt hear the smothered sighs
Of the hopeless one who liveth,
Of the happier one who dies.
Thou hast sisters who are outcast—
Yet through misery they erred;
They are pining—yea, they perish
For a single kindly word!
Thou wilt hear the smothered sighs
Of the hopeless one who liveth,
Of the happier one who dies.
Thou hast sisters who are outcast—
Yet through misery they erred;
They are pining—yea, they perish
For a single kindly word!
Come hither, lady! come!—
There are hearts which thou may'st warm!
Be an angel in thy mercies,
As thou hast an angel form.
Come, and soothe thy suffering sisters,
Fair and gentle as thou art!
Oh! the poor are always with thee!—
They are kneeling at thy heart!
There are hearts which thou may'st warm!
Be an angel in thy mercies,
As thou hast an angel form.
Come, and soothe thy suffering sisters,
Fair and gentle as thou art!
Oh! the poor are always with thee!—
They are kneeling at thy heart!
| Duganne's Poetical Works | |