 | Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights |  |
BESSIE BELL.
Lua de mi Alma.
Do you know the modest Maiden,
Pretty, bonny Bessie Bell,
Queen of all the flowers of Aiden,
Whom my heart doth love so well?
Ah! her eyelids droop declining
On her soft cerulean eyes,
Like an unbought Beauty's, pining
For the Harem's Paradise.
Pretty, bonny Bessie Bell,
Queen of all the flowers of Aiden,
Whom my heart doth love so well?
Ah! her eyelids droop declining
On her soft cerulean eyes,
Like an unbought Beauty's, pining
For the Harem's Paradise.
All her soul seemed full of blisses—
All her heart seemed full of love—
Which she rained on me in kisses,
Like Heaven manna from above.
Sought, the young Fawn in her wildness
Is not wilder in the Dell;
Unapproached, the Dove in mildness
Is not mild as Bessie Bell.
All her heart seemed full of love—
Which she rained on me in kisses,
Like Heaven manna from above.
Sought, the young Fawn in her wildness
Is not wilder in the Dell;
Unapproached, the Dove in mildness
Is not mild as Bessie Bell.
Like the sweetest of Heaven's singers,
Israfel about his Lord,
Music smote her lily-fingers
From her Heavenly Heptachord.
You should know this modest Maiden,
Pretty, bonny Bessie Bell,
Queen of all the Flowers of Aiden,
Whom my heart doth love so well.
Israfel about his Lord,
Music smote her lily-fingers
From her Heavenly Heptachord.
85
Pretty, bonny Bessie Bell,
Queen of all the Flowers of Aiden,
Whom my heart doth love so well.
Like some sorrowing soul atoning
For her sins with sobbing sighs—
Wasting, wailing, melting, moaning
Out her heart in agonies;
Sang this saintly modest Maiden,
Pretty, bonny Bessie Bell,
Queen of all the Flowers of Aiden,
Whom my heart doth love so well.
For her sins with sobbing sighs—
Wasting, wailing, melting, moaning
Out her heart in agonies;
Sang this saintly modest Maiden,
Pretty, bonny Bessie Bell,
Queen of all the Flowers of Aiden,
Whom my heart doth love so well.
Like the psychical vibration
Of the Butterfly's soft wings,
Dallying with the rich Carnation—
Played her fingers with the strings.
Israfelian in its dearness—
All her heart's deep love to tell—
Bell-like, silver in its clearness,
Fell the voice of Bessie Bell.
Of the Butterfly's soft wings,
Dallying with the rich Carnation—
Played her fingers with the strings.
Israfelian in its dearness—
All her heart's deep love to tell—
Bell-like, silver in its clearness,
Fell the voice of Bessie Bell.
Like some ruby Rose exhaling
Its perfume upon the air,
Her sweet lips kept ever wailing
Out her soul in words of prayer.
Do you know this modest Maiden,
Pretty, bonny Bessie Bell,
Whose sweet heart is overladen
With such love as none can tell?
Its perfume upon the air,
Her sweet lips kept ever wailing
Out her soul in words of prayer.
Do you know this modest Maiden,
Pretty, bonny Bessie Bell,
Whose sweet heart is overladen
With such love as none can tell?
A fierce thrill of deep devotion
Then vibrated through my heart,
Broken into rapt emotion
By the magic of her Art.
How I love this modest Maiden,
Pretty, bonny Bessie Bell,
Queen of all the Flowers of Aiden—
None on earth can ever tell.
Then vibrated through my heart,
Broken into rapt emotion
By the magic of her Art.
86
Pretty, bonny Bessie Bell,
Queen of all the Flowers of Aiden—
None on earth can ever tell.
Villa Allegra, Ga., April 10, 1846.
| Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights | |