 | A Wreath of Wild Flowers From New England |  |
208
TO ELIZABETH.
They may talk of delicate tresses,
That float in golden streams;
And wooing the sun's caresses,
Have caught and kept his beams.
That float in golden streams;
And wooing the sun's caresses,
Have caught and kept his beams.
They may tell of eyes of azure,
That smile, and smile, and smile,
Full of the light of pleasure
All the long while.
That smile, and smile, and smile,
Full of the light of pleasure
All the long while.
They may rave of a lily cheek,
Where never a blush doth dart;
Ah! too like a lily to speak
The thoughts of a living heart!
Where never a blush doth dart;
Ah! too like a lily to speak
The thoughts of a living heart!
But richer thy hair that resembles
The raven's plumage wet,
And brighter thine eye-beam trembles
Under its lash of jet.
The raven's plumage wet,
And brighter thine eye-beam trembles
Under its lash of jet.
209
And whiter far the forehead
Beneath such shadow lies;
With a light by contrast borrowed
From the cloud-like curls and eyes.
Beneath such shadow lies;
With a light by contrast borrowed
From the cloud-like curls and eyes.
Those laughing orbs, that borrow
From azure skies the light they wear,
Are like that heaven, no sorrow
Can float o'er hues so fair.
From azure skies the light they wear,
Are like that heaven, no sorrow
Can float o'er hues so fair.
Give me those skies, when darkling
Soft clouds contend with light,
When shower and sunshine sparkling,
The dazzled eye delight.
Soft clouds contend with light,
When shower and sunshine sparkling,
The dazzled eye delight.
Give me those eyes, where often
The tears of feeling shine,
The gazer's heart they soften,
And win its love like thine.
The tears of feeling shine,
The gazer's heart they soften,
And win its love like thine.
Give me the eloquent cheek,
Where blushes burn and die;
Like thine, its changes speak
The spirit's purity!
Where blushes burn and die;
Like thine, its changes speak
The spirit's purity!
210
Ah! though it give thee pain,
So beautiful the glow,
We cannot choose but gaze again,
To see it come and go.
So beautiful the glow,
We cannot choose but gaze again,
To see it come and go.
Thy face seems ever stealing
The roses—rich—divine—
That Love, and Joy, and Feeling,
Within thy heart entwine!
The roses—rich—divine—
That Love, and Joy, and Feeling,
Within thy heart entwine!
I know no holier prayer
Than that I breathe for thee;
That ever, as unbidden, there,
That modest blush may be.
Than that I breathe for thee;
That ever, as unbidden, there,
That modest blush may be.
| A Wreath of Wild Flowers From New England | |