 | Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood |  |
TO AMELIA WELBY.
Darling of all hearts that listen
To your warble wild and true!
As a lovely star doth glisten
In the far West—so do you!
To your warble wild and true!
As a lovely star doth glisten
In the far West—so do you!
Are you sure you are a mortal?
Or a Peri in disguise,
Watching till the heavenly portal
Lets you into Paradise?
Or a Peri in disguise,
Watching till the heavenly portal
Lets you into Paradise?
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Whiling all the weary hours
With the songs you used to sing
In those bright aerial bowers
Where the rainbow dips its wing?
With the songs you used to sing
In those bright aerial bowers
Where the rainbow dips its wing?
Peri! no!—all woman-feeling
Pleads in that impassion'd lay;
Yet 'tis woman proudly stealing
Some fond angel's harp away.
Pleads in that impassion'd lay;
Yet 'tis woman proudly stealing
Some fond angel's harp away.
Mingling, with divine emotion
Holy as a seraph's thought,
Human love and warm devotion,
Into rarest pathos wrought.
Holy as a seraph's thought,
Human love and warm devotion,
Into rarest pathos wrought.
Sweep again the silver chords!
Pour the soul of music there!
Write, for your heart's tune, the words,—
All our hearts will play the air!
Pour the soul of music there!
Write, for your heart's tune, the words,—
All our hearts will play the air!
| Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood | |