 | Poems |  |
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A REAL QUEEN.
Thou art so graceful in thy mien, so gracious in thy gaze,Thou art to me a real queen born out of queenly days.
Surely a diadem has crowned a less imperial brow,
And vassals true have thronged around a queen less fair than thou.
I never see thy deep blue eyes, thy wealth of golden hair,
Th' unconscious pride thy look implies, and thy still stately air,
But still the dream my fancy fills that surely thou must be
A daughter of the Norlan hills, a princess of the Sea.
How bold these clear blue eyes had gleamed beneath a bellying sail,
These flowing locks how brightly streamed on a dark northsea gale!
And all the charms that round thee cling, at once so fair and free,
Sure Danish scald had joyed to sing upon the billowy sea!
And men of valorous Viking blood and simple speech and true
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By right of beauty thou hadst reigned—a claim we honour still—
Perchance of blood, that all unstained may yet thy being fill.
Lady! whatever be thy lot, thy lineage or degree,
In castle-hall or humble cot, thou art not mean to me;
For thou in gesture, form, and face art one of Nature's queens,
Fit to adorn with easy grace the proudest palace scenes,
And equal fit in paths obscure and rural shades to shine
A queen among the lowly poor whose fortunes measure thine.
Tho' ne'er in golden chair enthroned in regal pomp and ease,
Yet many mute eyes must have owned thy sway in words like these,—
Fair stranger-queen, to thee we bow, our hearts confess thy sway,
The tribute of pure thoughts we vow to pay thee from this day.
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