 | Early and late poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
228
ROWAN RAMSEY.
Rowan Ramsey, she is plain—
Plain as you would plainness call;
Just her girlish golden hair
Round her brow and bosom fair,
For adornment, that is all!
Plain as you would plainness call;
Just her girlish golden hair
Round her brow and bosom fair,
For adornment, that is all!
Rowan Ramsey, she is vain
Of her girlish golden hair,
And her feet, if she but stir,
Dance about in spite of her,
Just to show how small they are!
Of her girlish golden hair,
And her feet, if she but stir,
Dance about in spite of her,
Just to show how small they are!
Rowan Ramsey, she is neat—
Stocking, petticoat of snow,
And her hair, like veil of lace,
Slippeth fitly to the place
Of her sleeve, so loose and low.
Stocking, petticoat of snow,
And her hair, like veil of lace,
Slippeth fitly to the place
Of her sleeve, so loose and low.
Rowan Ramsey, she is sweet;
Nature's child, as you will see;
Never any bramble-bud,
Born a mile deep in the wood,
Grew to blossom pure as she.
Nature's child, as you will see;
Never any bramble-bud,
Born a mile deep in the wood,
Grew to blossom pure as she.
Rowan Ramsey's smiles do flow
O'er her chaste, religious frown;
And no little saintly nun,
At her 'broidery in the sun,
Droppeth eyelid lowlier down.
O'er her chaste, religious frown;
And no little saintly nun,
229
Droppeth eyelid lowlier down.
Rowan Ramsey, she is low,
High in goodness is her part;
When we stand up to be wed,
You shall see her golden head
Shining level with my heart.
High in goodness is her part;
When we stand up to be wed,
You shall see her golden head
Shining level with my heart.
Rowan Ramsey, she is small—
Never smaller maid appeared
Outside of a fairy bower;
I could hide her like a flower,
Underneath my grisly beard.
Never smaller maid appeared
Outside of a fairy bower;
I could hide her like a flower,
Underneath my grisly beard.
Rowan Ramsey, she is all
Just as I would have her be;
Golden hair, and gown so simple,
Brow and bosom, smile and dimple,
Sweet as ever sweet can be!
Just as I would have her be;
Golden hair, and gown so simple,
Brow and bosom, smile and dimple,
Sweet as ever sweet can be!
| Early and late poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |