 | Poems and Lancashire Songs |  |
84
MARY.
I
My Mary is the queen of girls!Cupid's archers round her play,
And bivouac among the curls
Which her noble head array!
II
Her modest glances to and fro—Ah, little knows she how they win!—
Would draw an angel down below,
Or woo the fall'n to heaven again.
85
III
The fairest form that ever playedA poet's brightest dreams among,
Was not so lovely as the maid
That wakes this heart of mine to song.
IV
And oh, her eyes, of heavenly hue!The mystic spell of those twin skies,—
When love's sweet witchery lights the blue,
The stainless blue of Mary's eyes!
V
Oh, Mary, such a love as mineIdolatry can never be:—
Earth has no altar more divine,—
No purer paradise, for me.
| Poems and Lancashire Songs | |