The improvisatrice; and other poems By L. E. L. [i.e. Landon] With embellishments. A new edition |
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 | The improvisatrice; and other poems |  |
'Twas beautiful, by the pale moonlight,
To mark her eyes,—now dark, now bright,
As now they met, now shrank away,
From the gaze that watched and worshipped their day.
They stood on the deck, and the midnight gale
Just waved the maiden's silver veil—
Just lifted a curl, as if to show
The cheek of rose that was burning below:
And never spread a sky of blue
More clear for the stars to wander through!
And never could their mirror be
A calmer or a lovelier sea!
For every wave was a diamond gleam:
And that light vessel well may seem
A fairy ship, and that graceful pair
Young Genii, whose home was of light and air!
To mark her eyes,—now dark, now bright,
As now they met, now shrank away,
From the gaze that watched and worshipped their day.
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Just waved the maiden's silver veil—
Just lifted a curl, as if to show
The cheek of rose that was burning below:
And never spread a sky of blue
More clear for the stars to wander through!
And never could their mirror be
A calmer or a lovelier sea!
For every wave was a diamond gleam:
And that light vessel well may seem
A fairy ship, and that graceful pair
Young Genii, whose home was of light and air!
| The improvisatrice; and other poems | |