 | Flower Pieces and other poems |  |
161
MARY.
Mary's but a lowly maid,
Very wise and gentle;
Proud Lucinda's rich brocade
Proves her father's rental.
Where the lamps and jewels glow,
Doth Lucinda bask it;
Cottage roof where roses blow,
You're my Mary's casket!
Very wise and gentle;
Proud Lucinda's rich brocade
Proves her father's rental.
Where the lamps and jewels glow,
Doth Lucinda bask it;
Cottage roof where roses blow,
You're my Mary's casket!
See, in whim, Lucinda bright
Flings her glances my way,
As a travelling duchess might
Wander down a bye-way,
Love the brook, the village inn,—
‘Here to live and die now!
Ah, new horses—off we spin:
Little place, goodbye now!’
Flings her glances my way,
As a travelling duchess might
Wander down a bye-way,
Love the brook, the village inn,—
‘Here to live and die now!
Ah, new horses—off we spin:
Little place, goodbye now!’
Nay, my lady, by your leave,
Wasted fall those glances;
You yourself alone deceive,
Dangling toyish fancies.
There, in all your charms array'd,
Calm I look you over;
Mary's but a simple maid,
I am Mary's lover.
Wasted fall those glances;
You yourself alone deceive,
Dangling toyish fancies.
There, in all your charms array'd,
Calm I look you over;
Mary's but a simple maid,
I am Mary's lover.
162
Sweeter far my Mary's smile,
Tender, truthful, gracious,
Than the lady's honey'd wile,
Delicately mendacious.
Give me Mary's finger-tips,
Robb'd of half their whiteness,
Rather than Lucinda's lips,
Wreath'd in languid brightness!
Tender, truthful, gracious,
Than the lady's honey'd wile,
Delicately mendacious.
Give me Mary's finger-tips,
Robb'd of half their whiteness,
Rather than Lucinda's lips,
Wreath'd in languid brightness!
A thousand beauties, fair and brown,
I've seen, of every station:
Like my Mary, never one;
She's new as Eve's creation.
And hid was this delightful girl
Where no man could discover,
Till I, most happy, found the pearl,—
I am Mary's lover.
I've seen, of every station:
Like my Mary, never one;
She's new as Eve's creation.
And hid was this delightful girl
Where no man could discover,
Till I, most happy, found the pearl,—
I am Mary's lover.
Fresher far than flowery wood
When the spring awakes it,
Brighter far than morning cloud
When the sunshine takes it,
Mary's love—and pure as Heav'n:
O thou best and dearest!
All thy love to me is given,
All my soul thou cheerest.
When the spring awakes it,
Brighter far than morning cloud
When the sunshine takes it,
Mary's love—and pure as Heav'n:
O thou best and dearest!
All thy love to me is given,
All my soul thou cheerest.
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