 | The Uncollected Poems of Henry Timrod |  |
93
A BRACELET
Gems have I none to shower at your feet,But I may borrow the bright toys in verse
To weave a bracelet for you. These were culled
In Cloud-land, and they form the sweetest name
That ever graced a loving Poet's song.
Mark! as I call them over! There you see
Green chrysoprase, and purple amethyst,
Rubies and lustrous opals, ligurites
Of golden lustre, scarlet idocrase,
Blue napolite, and dim and gray that stone,
Like the pale skies from which it drinks its hue,
The elaolite of Norway! Note the clasp
And its device!—a splendid heliotrope
Cut like a heart, and spotted as with blood!
While in a golden circlet of like shape
Three stones are grouped,—an onyx triple hued,
And (like a red rose 'mid its wealth of green)
A crimson pyrope set in emerald.
My bracelet is a quaint one I confess,
And to a lady's taste might scarce look well
By sunshine, or a ball-room's garish light;
Yet—for the love's dear sake that wrought it—take
And wear it sometimes in your dreams of me.
| The Uncollected Poems of Henry Timrod | |