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The bard, and minor poems

By John Walker Ord ... Collected and edited by John Lodge
  

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LAURA.
  
  
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249

LAURA.

Dark her hair as winter night,
When the storm-clouds meet the blast;
Dark as pine-groves, when the blight
Of autumn's winds float wildly past.
Yet her locks are bright and long,
Veiling neck and bosom fair;
And in raven clusters throng
O'er the snowy hillocks there.
Bright her eye, as amethyst,
Soft as shadows in a stream,
Mild as moonbeams through the mist
Of a youthful bridegroom's dream.
Loveliest thoughts are pictured there,
Absent memories, raptures gone;
Glances from a holier sphere,
Like a prayer-entranced nun.
Clear the marble of her brow,
Forehead fair, and pure, and high;
Crown and garland there might grow
Where the locks so careless lie.

250

Pomegranate, nor nectarine,
With thy velvet cheeks compare;
Like the eastern heavens divine,
Warm and soft as summer air.
Rich those lips as tints of even,
When the ocean clasps the sun;
Fragrant as the winds of heaven
That o'er violet-blossoms run.
Bright those snowy pearls that grow—
Walls of ivory all around:
Sweetly do the murmurs flow
Of each note's melodious sound.
And her bosom's rich and fair,
Like snow-wreaths in the early spring,
When the sunbeams warm and clear
Touch them with their orient wing.
Virtue's richest treasures rest
'Neath that lovely citadel—
Rarest charms of woman's breast
In its sacred caverns dwell.
Light her step, as mountain deer,
Chamois, or the bounding fawn;
And she glances far and near,
Like creature of the silver dawn.

251

O, my Laura, fair and young,
Blessings crown thee, Love divine;
Brighter maid ne'er poet sung—
Sweeter ne'er was pledged in wine.
So to her the village queen,
Raise the bumper—fill it high—
“Laura of the village green,
Laura of the coal-black eye!”