 | [Poems by Osgood in] The poetry of flowers and Flowers of Poetry |  |
146
LOVE IN A SNOW-WREATH.
MEZEREON.
One wintry morn an icicle lay,
Chained, in the sunlight calm and clear,
To a graceful, delicate, frost-bound spray,
Like a diamond-drop in Beauty's ear.
Chained, in the sunlight calm and clear,
To a graceful, delicate, frost-bound spray,
Like a diamond-drop in Beauty's ear.
My eye was caught by a strange, rich gleam,
That fitfully played in the pendant pure,
And I thought I saw two bright wings beam
Through the luminous ice; but I was not sure.
That fitfully played in the pendant pure,
And I thought I saw two bright wings beam
Through the luminous ice; but I was not sure.
I stole to the place, and there—behold!
A fairy child in the icicle's heart!
Tossing his tresses of curled gold,
Shaking his tiny, suntipped dart;—
A fairy child in the icicle's heart!
Tossing his tresses of curled gold,
Shaking his tiny, suntipped dart;—
Fluttering, striving his form to free,
Like a rainbow at play in a prison, he turned;
Laughing and frowning, as anger or glee,
By turns, in his bosom, smiled or burned.
Like a rainbow at play in a prison, he turned;
Laughing and frowning, as anger or glee,
By turns, in his bosom, smiled or burned.
I knew by his pinions of changeable light,
I knew by his quiver and cherub-bloom,
'T was the lovely and petulant cyprian sprite—
The boy-god—caught in that living tomb.
I knew by his quiver and cherub-bloom,
'T was the lovely and petulant cyprian sprite—
The boy-god—caught in that living tomb.
147
But his sigh so soft, and his smile so warm,
Were melting the icicle fast away;
And lo! as I gazed, he freed his form,
And plumed his wings on the frost-bound spray.
Were melting the icicle fast away;
And lo! as I gazed, he freed his form,
And plumed his wings on the frost-bound spray.
“And how came you in it, sweet Love?” I cried;
He bit his lips as he answered low—
“I have been a fool for my pains;—I tried
Young Julia's heart, with a tale of wo:
He bit his lips as he answered low—
“I have been a fool for my pains;—I tried
Young Julia's heart, with a tale of wo:
“She pitied—received—and hushed me to sleep
On her tranquil breast, that knew no sin;
And o'er my form soft tears did weep,
But oh! so cold, they froze me in!
On her tranquil breast, that knew no sin;
And o'er my form soft tears did weep,
But oh! so cold, they froze me in!
“I woke to find myself prisoned here,
In the palace of ice her tears had wrought;
And if ever I trust to a woman's tear
Again, may I be—in my own net, caught!”
In the palace of ice her tears had wrought;
And if ever I trust to a woman's tear
Again, may I be—in my own net, caught!”
He sighed—he shivered—shook off the last
Chill drops that hung on his plumes of light;
One rueful look upon me he cast,
Then rapidly rose and was lost to sight.
Chill drops that hung on his plumes of light;
One rueful look upon me he cast,
Then rapidly rose and was lost to sight.
| [Poems by Osgood in] The poetry of flowers and Flowers of Poetry | |