University of Virginia Library


293

I. WRITTEN IN A BLANK-PAPER BOOK GIVEN TO THE AUTHOR BY A FRIEND.

My little book, as o'er thy page so white,
With half-closed eyes in idlest mood I lean,
Whose is the form that rises still between
Thy page and me,—a vision of delight?
Look on those eyes by the bright soul made bright;
Those curls, which who Antinous' bust hath seen
Hath loved; that shape which might beseem a queen;
That blush of purity; that smile of light.
'Tis she! my little book dost thou not own
Thy mistress? She it is, the only she!
Dost thou not listen for the one sweet tone
Of her unrivalled voice? Dost thou not see
Her look of love, for whose dear sake alone,
My little book, thou art so dear to me?