 | The Poetical Works of Robert Story |  |
An Eye in its dark-glancing Beauty.
An eye in its dark-glancing beauty hath spoken,
A lip hath been pressed like a rose-bud in dew,
And the clasp of a soft hand has thrilled as a token
Through fibre and vein—that my Fanny is true!
A lip hath been pressed like a rose-bud in dew,
And the clasp of a soft hand has thrilled as a token
Through fibre and vein—that my Fanny is true!
There's a tint of romance in the sunbeam that lightens
By turns the green vale, and the mountain's wild hue;
It comes from the thought that internally brightens,
The heart-blessing thought—that my Fanny is true!
By turns the green vale, and the mountain's wild hue;
It comes from the thought that internally brightens,
The heart-blessing thought—that my Fanny is true!
There's a voice in the gale, as it sighingly wanders
Where the young buds of Spring open green on the view;
There's a voice in the stream, as it purely meanders,
Breathing fresh o'er the soul—that my Fanny is true!
Where the young buds of Spring open green on the view;
There's a voice in the stream, as it purely meanders,
Breathing fresh o'er the soul—that my Fanny is true!
The lark, as he soars from the strained eye of wonder,
Or brushes the white cloud that streaks the fine blue,
Sends down his loud note to the choristers under,
And wood and vale ring with—my Fanny is true!
Or brushes the white cloud that streaks the fine blue,
Sends down his loud note to the choristers under,
And wood and vale ring with—my Fanny is true!
27
O soften, my song! for a transport is given,
To which the best chords of the bosom are due;
And sink like the gale on a rose-bank at even,
In a long sigh of bliss—that my Fanny is true!
To which the best chords of the bosom are due;
And sink like the gale on a rose-bank at even,
In a long sigh of bliss—that my Fanny is true!
| The Poetical Works of Robert Story | |