 | A Wreath of Wild Flowers From New England |  |
LOVE'S COMPARISON.
“Off with the old love, and on with the new.”
Must I tell thee, Georgiana,
Of my cousin Caroline?
How the pretty creature sported with
This wayward heart of mine?
Oh! her eyes were blue as heaven, love,
But not so blue as thine,
And yet I almost idolized
The eyes of Caroline.
Of my cousin Caroline?
How the pretty creature sported with
This wayward heart of mine?
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But not so blue as thine,
And yet I almost idolized
The eyes of Caroline.
Her soft hair rippled to her waist
In waves of golden light,
Giving glimpses of a shoulder
That was exquisitely white;
Thine own has just that sunny fall
But silkier far than hers,
And a fairer neck gleams through them
While the wind their beauty stirs.
Ah! fondly (when she'd let me),
Did I those tresses twine,
But it was not near so pleasant, love,
As playing thus with thine!
In waves of golden light,
Giving glimpses of a shoulder
That was exquisitely white;
Thine own has just that sunny fall
But silkier far than hers,
And a fairer neck gleams through them
While the wind their beauty stirs.
Ah! fondly (when she'd let me),
Did I those tresses twine,
But it was not near so pleasant, love,
As playing thus with thine!
Her laugh was like a fairy's laugh,
So musical and sweet,
Her foot was like a fairy's foot,
So dainty and so fleet;
Her smile was fitful sunshine,
Her hand was dimpled snow,
Her lip a very rosebud
In sweetness and in glow;
But I know a lighter footstep,
More melodious a laugh,
A hand that's swansdown to the touch,
More soft than her's by half,
And a smile with more of angel-power
To brighten and to bless,
And a lip, that (if you'd let me),
I would perish but to press!
Ah! dearly did I love to hold
Her little hand in mine,
But I was not half so happy, sweet,
As now in taking thine!
So musical and sweet,
Her foot was like a fairy's foot,
So dainty and so fleet;
Her smile was fitful sunshine,
Her hand was dimpled snow,
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In sweetness and in glow;
But I know a lighter footstep,
More melodious a laugh,
A hand that's swansdown to the touch,
More soft than her's by half,
And a smile with more of angel-power
To brighten and to bless,
And a lip, that (if you'd let me),
I would perish but to press!
Ah! dearly did I love to hold
Her little hand in mine,
But I was not half so happy, sweet,
As now in taking thine!
Her cheek was very eloquent,
For there her feelings spoke,
Like summer's rosy lightning,
The colour o'er it broke;
While bewitching smiles and dimples
Changed its beautiful repose,
Like the zephyr and the sunshine
At play upon a rose.
But I know a cheek whose blushes,
As they trembling come and go,
I could gaze upon for ever,
If it did not pain thee so;
She never sought to shun my gaze—
My petted Caroline,
And yet I'd give her sunniest look
For one dear blush of thine.
For there her feelings spoke,
Like summer's rosy lightning,
The colour o'er it broke;
While bewitching smiles and dimples
Changed its beautiful repose,
Like the zephyr and the sunshine
At play upon a rose.
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As they trembling come and go,
I could gaze upon for ever,
If it did not pain thee so;
She never sought to shun my gaze—
My petted Caroline,
And yet I'd give her sunniest look
For one dear blush of thine.
Now prythee do not call
My cousin Carry—a coquet!
When I tell you she had danglers
By the dozen in her net;
For she was very beautiful,
Bewildering and bright,
And I own, her pretty, winning ways
And words, bewitched me quite.
Ah! I even now remember
That sweet madness with a sigh,
Nay, do not draw the hand away,
Nor droop the doubting eye;
But think, if I was dazzled thus
By careless Caroline,
How much more fondly I shall prize
So pure a heart as thine!
My cousin Carry—a coquet!
When I tell you she had danglers
By the dozen in her net;
For she was very beautiful,
Bewildering and bright,
And I own, her pretty, winning ways
And words, bewitched me quite.
Ah! I even now remember
That sweet madness with a sigh,
Nay, do not draw the hand away,
Nor droop the doubting eye;
But think, if I was dazzled thus
By careless Caroline,
How much more fondly I shall prize
So pure a heart as thine!
| A Wreath of Wild Flowers From New England | |