 | Rhymes with reason and without |  |
115
LINES IN AN ALBUM.
I'm sad that I don't know you, Miss, nor how you think or look,
No more than you the stranger one who thus profanes your book;
So of course I cannot praise you much, whatever I may say,
Avoiding thus the odiousness of flattery in my lay.
But you'll still be my inspirer, as in tales of old romance,
When many a knightly pennon waved from many a battle lance,—
When knightly vows were given oft, upheld by sword and mace,
Of fealty to dames of straw, who 'd ne'er revealed their face,—
And I, like these old chevaliers, devote my pen to you,
And act as if your wish and will your votary fully knew.
Write! is the mandate, and at once my muse has spread her wing
And this, the trophy of her flight, she to your feet doth bring:
No more than you the stranger one who thus profanes your book;
So of course I cannot praise you much, whatever I may say,
Avoiding thus the odiousness of flattery in my lay.
But you'll still be my inspirer, as in tales of old romance,
When many a knightly pennon waved from many a battle lance,—
When knightly vows were given oft, upheld by sword and mace,
Of fealty to dames of straw, who 'd ne'er revealed their face,—
And I, like these old chevaliers, devote my pen to you,
And act as if your wish and will your votary fully knew.
Write! is the mandate, and at once my muse has spread her wing
And this, the trophy of her flight, she to your feet doth bring:
WOMAN.
Thine is the power to make the arid plain
Glow bright in sweet affection's genial ray,
And, twining roses round man's troubled way,
Bring him, though lost, to Eden's joys again.
His fall becomes his bliss, for to his grief
Thy soothing influence, perpetual, brings
A balm, like dew from night's o'ershadowing wings,
Cheering his toil-bowed heart with blest relief.
Without thee!—Heaven knew man's direst need,
And thee, sweet ministering angel, sent,
With earthly and with heavenly feelings blent,
To heal the heart that otherwise might bleed.
Thy spirit brightens life's care-clouded vale,
And guides him hopeful where he else might fail.
Glow bright in sweet affection's genial ray,
And, twining roses round man's troubled way,
Bring him, though lost, to Eden's joys again.
116
Thy soothing influence, perpetual, brings
A balm, like dew from night's o'ershadowing wings,
Cheering his toil-bowed heart with blest relief.
Without thee!—Heaven knew man's direst need,
And thee, sweet ministering angel, sent,
With earthly and with heavenly feelings blent,
To heal the heart that otherwise might bleed.
Thy spirit brightens life's care-clouded vale,
And guides him hopeful where he else might fail.
'Tis but a simple tale I sing,—of small poetic worth;
Soar we to heaven as we may, our thoughts come back to earth—
For though woman's angel nature might claim that upper sphere,
Her better portion is to bless the sad and sorrowing here.
Soar we to heaven as we may, our thoughts come back to earth—
For though woman's angel nature might claim that upper sphere,
Her better portion is to bless the sad and sorrowing here.
| Rhymes with reason and without | |