 | Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights |  |
ROSALIE LEE.
“Les Anges ne sont plus pures que le cœur d' un jeune homme qui aime en verite.”
—Madame Dudevant.
—Madame Dudevant.
On the banks of the yellow lilies,
Where the cool wave wanders by,
All bedamasked with Daffodillies,
And the bee-beset Crowtie;
More mild than the Paphian Luna
To her nude Nymphs on the Sea,
There dwelt, with her milk-white Una,
My beautiful Rosalie Lee—
My high-born Rosalie Lee—
My child-like Rosalie Lee—
My beautiful, dutiful Rosalie Lee.
Where the cool wave wanders by,
All bedamasked with Daffodillies,
And the bee-beset Crowtie;
More mild than the Paphian Luna
To her nude Nymphs on the Sea,
There dwelt, with her milk-white Una,
My beautiful Rosalie Lee—
My high-born Rosalie Lee—
My child-like Rosalie Lee—
My beautiful, dutiful Rosalie Lee.
More coy than the wild Goldfinches,
When they hunt for the Butterfly,
Which the dew of the morning quenches,
In the psychical month July;
Like an opaline Dove's neck chiming
Cherubic beauty for me,
Were her ovaline arms in their rhyming,
Of my beautiful Rosalie Lee—
Of my lamb-like Rosalie Lee—
Of my Heaven-born Rosalie Lee—
Of my beautiful, dutiful Rosalie Lee.
When they hunt for the Butterfly,
Which the dew of the morning quenches,
In the psychical month July;
Like an opaline Dove's neck chiming
Cherubic beauty for me,
Were her ovaline arms in their rhyming,
Of my beautiful Rosalie Lee—
Of my lamb-like Rosalie Lee—
Of my Heaven-born Rosalie Lee—
Of my beautiful, dutiful Rosalie Lee.
32
Many mellow Cydonian Suckets,
Sweet apples, anthosmial, divine,
From the Ruby-rimmed Beryline buckets,
Star-gemmed, lily-shaped, hyaline—
Like that sweet golden goblet found growing
On the wild emerald Cucumber-tree—
Rich, brilliant, like Chrysopraz blowing—
I then brought to my Rosalie Lee—
To my lamb-like Rosalie Lee—
To my Dove-like Rosalie Lee—
To my beautiful, dutiful Rosalie Lee.
Sweet apples, anthosmial, divine,
From the Ruby-rimmed Beryline buckets,
Star-gemmed, lily-shaped, hyaline—
Like that sweet golden goblet found growing
On the wild emerald Cucumber-tree—
Rich, brilliant, like Chrysopraz blowing—
I then brought to my Rosalie Lee—
To my lamb-like Rosalie Lee—
To my Dove-like Rosalie Lee—
To my beautiful, dutiful Rosalie Lee.
Warbling her wood-notes wild, she wended
Her way with the turtle Doves,
And the Wood-nymphs weird that attended
Her steps through the flowery groves.
In the light of her eyes of azure,
My soul seemed on earth to see
All that Heaven could give me of pleasure,
With my beautiful Rosalie Lee—
With my Heaven-born Rosalie Lee—
With my Christ-like Rosalie Lee—
With my beautiful, dutiful Rosalie Lee.
Her way with the turtle Doves,
And the Wood-nymphs weird that attended
Her steps through the flowery groves.
In the light of her eyes of azure,
My soul seemed on earth to see
All that Heaven could give me of pleasure,
With my beautiful Rosalie Lee—
With my Heaven-born Rosalie Lee—
With my Christ-like Rosalie Lee—
With my beautiful, dutiful Rosalie Lee.
But my darling Ulpsyche sighing
Her soul out to give me delight,
Went away with the great Undying
To the Courts of the Heavenly Light.
Through an arc made in the azure
Of God's azimuth, Heaven to see,
There to dwell with the Angels in pleasure—
Went my beautiful Rosalie Lee—
Went my fair-browed Rosalie Lee—
Went my much loved Rosalie Lee—
Went my beautiful, dutiful Rosalie Lee.
Her soul out to give me delight,
Went away with the great Undying
To the Courts of the Heavenly Light.
Through an arc made in the azure
Of God's azimuth, Heaven to see,
There to dwell with the Angels in pleasure—
Went my beautiful Rosalie Lee—
Went my fair-browed Rosalie Lee—
Went my much loved Rosalie Lee—
Went my beautiful, dutiful Rosalie Lee.
33
Through the Valley of Avalon lonely,
By the light of the argentine Moon,
From the presence that lived for her only
On the banks of the Rivers of Rune;
Through the Star-Islands studding the Ether,
With the Angels that took her from me—
(Though my soul in its sorrow went with her—)
Soared my beautiful Rosalie Lee—
Soared my Christ-like Rosalie Lee—
Soared my God-loved Rosalie Lee—
Soared my beautiful, dutiful Rosalie Lee.
By the light of the argentine Moon,
From the presence that lived for her only
On the banks of the Rivers of Rune;
Through the Star-Islands studding the Ether,
With the Angels that took her from me—
(Though my soul in its sorrow went with her—)
Soared my beautiful Rosalie Lee—
Soared my Christ-like Rosalie Lee—
Soared my God-loved Rosalie Lee—
Soared my beautiful, dutiful Rosalie Lee.
| Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights | |