 | Poems |  |
74
HELOISE.
Her beaming look of sweet repose,Her mild yet queenly air,
In which a sunny magic glows,
Luxuriantly fair;
Her soft tones languidly delayed,
That from such lips are sped,
They seem caressingly afraid
To leave their rosy bed;
Her laugh that into sparkles breaks
The listless tide of care,
And to a breezy gladness wakes
Life's dull and common air;
The spirit of her native wild
Frank, kindly and sincere,
That, buoyant as a trusting child,
Lurks in each smile and tear;
Her rich locks, like the warrior's fleece,
Attracting dews of joy,
Her artless yielding to caprice
Defying all annoy;
75
To beauty's golden noon,
Has onward swept before the gale
Of triumph's gay monsoon:
Yet think not as you list and gaze,
No deeper meaning lies
In the benign and varying rays
Of those propitious eyes;
No senseless idol of the throng
Could be so fresh and true,
No cadence of an idle song
Such lofty dreams renew!
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