 | Rural sketches and poems |  |
135
THE ROSE OF CLEVELAND.
“And so I won my Genevieve,
My bright my beauteous bride.”—
S. T. Coleridge.
My bright my beauteous bride.”—
S. T. Coleridge.
Lovely is the cottage window,
All with rarest woodbine crown'd,
Where the flower (of flowers the sweetest;)
Cleveland's fairest rose is found!
All with rarest woodbine crown'd,
Where the flower (of flowers the sweetest;)
Cleveland's fairest rose is found!
When the vesper-star shone palely
O'er the weary world's repose;
When the moon walk'd high and lonely,
First I met my Cleveland rose.
O'er the weary world's repose;
When the moon walk'd high and lonely,
First I met my Cleveland rose.
Like that evening stars first-rising,
Like the glow-worm in the dell,
Were those eyes so bright, so gentle,
Of the maid I love so well.
Like the glow-worm in the dell,
Were those eyes so bright, so gentle,
Of the maid I love so well.
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Poets talk of Parian marble,
Drifted snow, and hawthorn white,
Yet her brow and neck are fairer,
Dazzling with a softer light.
Drifted snow, and hawthorn white,
Yet her brow and neck are fairer,
Dazzling with a softer light.
As the waves of summer ocean,
Rise and fall with gentle swell,
Heaves the love-compelling bosom,
Where my heart's devotions dwell.
Rise and fall with gentle swell,
Heaves the love-compelling bosom,
Where my heart's devotions dwell.
Not the fawn, the wild-deer lighter,
Bounding o'er their heather homes—
Graceful she, in every motion,
Shedding bliss where'er she roams.
Bounding o'er their heather homes—
Graceful she, in every motion,
Shedding bliss where'er she roams.
“Come belov'd, behold the wild-wood,
Evening's breezes fan our brows,
Airs of heaven from western dwellings,
Greet us where yon Monarch glows.
Evening's breezes fan our brows,
Airs of heaven from western dwellings,
Greet us where yon Monarch glows.
“I will bring thee to the fountains
To the bowers where Love's repose;
There shall every wild-bird carol
Concerts for my Cleveland rose.”
To the bowers where Love's repose;
There shall every wild-bird carol
Concerts for my Cleveland rose.”
Dear, O dear that scene for ever—
Music rose from every bough:
Flowers of perfume from the hawthorn
Dropt upon her lovely brow.
Music rose from every bough:
Flowers of perfume from the hawthorn
Dropt upon her lovely brow.
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Clouds of fragrance floated o'er us,
Honied notes enwrapt the grove—
When I told the tale of passion;
All the story of my love.
Honied notes enwrapt the grove—
When I told the tale of passion;
All the story of my love.
“How for years, in anguish, lonely,
Years of sorrow, and of fear,
Like a star 'mid clouds of tempest,
She had dwelt in beauty near.
Years of sorrow, and of fear,
Like a star 'mid clouds of tempest,
She had dwelt in beauty near.
“How the very place she trod on,
To my sight was holy ground;
How her beauty, never absent,
Fill'd the earth's abysm round.
To my sight was holy ground;
How her beauty, never absent,
Fill'd the earth's abysm round.
“If, along the mountain heather,
By far streams, by woodlands fair,
I, in woe and sorrow wander'd—
She was ever, ever there!
By far streams, by woodlands fair,
I, in woe and sorrow wander'd—
She was ever, ever there!
“Then I swore,—then madly told her,
All the world but her, was nought,
Fame, and wealth a gloomy shadow—
She the bliss, the heaven I sought.”
All the world but her, was nought,
Fame, and wealth a gloomy shadow—
She the bliss, the heaven I sought.”
Soft-uplooking from those tresses
Glistening in the evening sun,
She, with eyes of love's confession,
Sweetly own'd my suit was won.
Glistening in the evening sun,
She, with eyes of love's confession,
Sweetly own'd my suit was won.
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Who shall tell that hour of rapture
Treasure for a thousand woes—
Thrilling passions, hopes entrancing,
When I won my Cleveland Rose?
Treasure for a thousand woes—
Thrilling passions, hopes entrancing,
When I won my Cleveland Rose?
| Rural sketches and poems | |