 | English Roses |  |
WENDELINE.
Wendeline has laughing eyes
Blue as heaven and only hers,
And the soul of music lies
In her voice, that ripples over
From red lips as red as clover,
Soft as spirit dulcimers.
No one ever saw her frown,
Or imperious and utter
Words beyond a gentle flutter,
Like the waft of angel wings;
Wears her auburn head a crown,
Better than the gold of kings.
Blue as heaven and only hers,
And the soul of music lies
In her voice, that ripples over
From red lips as red as clover,
Soft as spirit dulcimers.
No one ever saw her frown,
Or imperious and utter
Words beyond a gentle flutter,
Like the waft of angel wings;
Wears her auburn head a crown,
Better than the gold of kings.
Wendeline is never sad,
And she knows the secret clue
Which the early maidens had,
When sereness was their nature
Stamped with joy's own legislature,
And the roses hid the rue.
Ah, and singing winds her way
With a pretty shake and shiver
Like the running of a river,
And because her gladness must;
So my footsteps cannot stray,
In the triumph of her trust.
And she knows the secret clue
Which the early maidens had,
When sereness was their nature
Stamped with joy's own legislature,
And the roses hid the rue.
Ah, and singing winds her way
With a pretty shake and shiver
Like the running of a river,
And because her gladness must;
So my footsteps cannot stray,
In the triumph of her trust.
Wendeline is still the same,
Though o'er others falls a storm,
Setting troubled hearts a flame;
Then like honey-due her quiet
Gives my soul delicious diet,
From her white unruffled form.
Yea, she seems enthroned on high,
Far beyond our spots and splashes
And the common fuss and flashes,
Which distrub an earthly breast;
And the heaven itself comes night,
In the rapture of her rest.
Though o'er others falls a storm,
Setting troubled hearts a flame;
Then like honey-due her quiet
Gives my soul delicious diet,
From her white unruffled form.
93
Far beyond our spots and splashes
And the common fuss and flashes,
Which distrub an earthly breast;
And the heaven itself comes night,
In the rapture of her rest.
Wendeline is balm and bliss
To my fretful mind and means,
And the pureness of her kiss
Is a private revelation
And the richest inspiration,
When my doubt upon her leans.
Patiently she leads me on,
And without a breath of bustle
As the leaflets sigh and rustle,
Should a little wind upfly;
And where she before has gone,
All the world is sweet thereby,
To my fretful mind and means,
And the pureness of her kiss
Is a private revelation
And the richest inspiration,
When my doubt upon her leans.
Patiently she leads me on,
And without a breath of bustle
As the leaflets sigh and rustle,
Should a little wind upfly;
And where she before has gone,
All the world is sweet thereby,
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