 | Poems |  |
121
WOOD LAUREL.
Queen regnant of the summer wood,
That hearest thrush and hangbird cry,
With such a dream-like majesty
As crowns thee, out of solitude,
The fairest flower that ever stood,
Impassive, safe from sympathy.
That hearest thrush and hangbird cry,
With such a dream-like majesty
As crowns thee, out of solitude,
The fairest flower that ever stood,
Impassive, safe from sympathy.
Light-roseate cloud of dawning day,
Hung floating in the gloom of leaves,
Vainly for thee the night-wind grieves,
Vainly all forest-murmurs stray.
In thy cold blossoms vainly play
The thousand love-songs Nature weaves.
Hung floating in the gloom of leaves,
Vainly for thee the night-wind grieves,
Vainly all forest-murmurs stray.
In thy cold blossoms vainly play
The thousand love-songs Nature weaves.
So pure, so perfect, so serene,
With tender, mocking blushes dyed,
The cankerous honey-dew of pride,
Charms soft and deadly in thy mien,
The natural sceptre of a queen,
Heart frozen, but half deified.
With tender, mocking blushes dyed,
The cankerous honey-dew of pride,
Charms soft and deadly in thy mien,
The natural sceptre of a queen,
Heart frozen, but half deified.
Beware, oh glancing butterfly!
The rosy bloom is sweet to see,
But have thou care of majesty,
The serf that loves the queen must die.
Gay, living blossom! dance and fly
To humbler feasts, secure for thee.
The rosy bloom is sweet to see,
But have thou care of majesty,
The serf that loves the queen must die.
122
To humbler feasts, secure for thee.
Assiduous honey-bee, beware!
Those bright cups glow with poisoned wine;
The wild-rose and the columbine
Have simple treasures, safe to share.
This regal beauty holds thy snare,
The form, but not the soul, divine.
Those bright cups glow with poisoned wine;
The wild-rose and the columbine
Have simple treasures, safe to share.
This regal beauty holds thy snare,
The form, but not the soul, divine.
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