 | A Wreath of Wild Flowers From New England |  |
THE MORNING WALK, OR THE STOLEN BLUSH.
A LOVER'S LAY.
Never tell me that cheek is not painted, false maid!
'Tis a fib, tho' your pretty lip pouts while I say it;
And if the cheat were not already betrayed,
Those exquisite blushes themselves would betray it
'Tis a fib, tho' your pretty lip pouts while I say it;
And if the cheat were not already betrayed,
Those exquisite blushes themselves would betray it
But listen! this morning you rose ere the dawn,
To keep an appointment perhaps—with Apollo?
And finding a fairy foot-print on the lawn,
Which I could not mistake, I determined to follow.
To keep an appointment perhaps—with Apollo?
And finding a fairy foot-print on the lawn,
Which I could not mistake, I determined to follow.
129
To the hill-side I track'd it, and tripping above me,
Her sun-ringlets flying and jewelled with dew,
A maiden I saw!—now the truth, if you love me—
But why should I question—I'm sure it was you!
Her sun-ringlets flying and jewelled with dew,
A maiden I saw!—now the truth, if you love me—
But why should I question—I'm sure it was you!
And you cannot deny you were met in ascending,—
I meanwhile pursuing my truant by stealth,—
By a blooming young seraph, who turned and attending
Your steps, said her name was “the Spirit of Health.”
I meanwhile pursuing my truant by stealth,—
By a blooming young seraph, who turned and attending
Your steps, said her name was “the Spirit of Health.”
Meantime thro' the mist of transparent vermillion
That suddenly flooded the brow of the hill,
All fretted with gold rose Aurora's pavilion,
Illumining meadow, and mountain, and rill.
That suddenly flooded the brow of the hill,
All fretted with gold rose Aurora's pavilion,
Illumining meadow, and mountain, and rill.
And Health floating up through the luminous air,
Dipped her fingers of snow in those clouds growing bright;
Then turned and dashed down o'er her votary fair
A handful of rose-beams that bathed her in light.
Dipped her fingers of snow in those clouds growing bright;
Then turned and dashed down o'er her votary fair
A handful of rose-beams that bathed her in light.
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Even yet they're at play here and there in your form,
Thro' your fingers they steal to the white taper tips,
Now rush to that cheek its soft dimples to warm,
Now deepen the crimson that lives in your lips.
Thro' your fingers they steal to the white taper tips,
Now rush to that cheek its soft dimples to warm,
Now deepen the crimson that lives in your lips.
Will you tell me again, with that scorn-lighted eye,
That you do not use paint—while such tinting is there?
While the glow still affirms what the glance would deny?
No! in future disclaim the sweet theft if you dare!
That you do not use paint—while such tinting is there?
While the glow still affirms what the glance would deny?
No! in future disclaim the sweet theft if you dare!
| A Wreath of Wild Flowers From New England | |