The bard, and minor poems By John Walker Ord ... Collected and edited by John Lodge |
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MARY'S EYE. |
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 | The bard, and minor poems |  |
277
MARY'S EYE.
“------ that eye, wild as the Gazelle's,
How brightly bold, how beautifully shy,
Wins as it wanders, dazzles where it dwells.”
Byron.
How brightly bold, how beautifully shy,
Wins as it wanders, dazzles where it dwells.”
Byron.
Oh bright are the stars of the night, Mary!
Oh bright are the stars of the night!
And bright is the glow of the sunlit dew,
As it dwells in the cup of the hare-bell blue,
Gleaming with silvery light;
But I know of an eye that is brighter far
Than dew-drop in flower, or midnight star.
Oh bright are the stars of the night!
And bright is the glow of the sunlit dew,
As it dwells in the cup of the hare-bell blue,
Gleaming with silvery light;
But I know of an eye that is brighter far
Than dew-drop in flower, or midnight star.
Oh dark is the midnight sky, Mary!
Oh dark is the midnight sky!
And dark are the depths of the shoreless sea,
As deeply dark as dark can be
To the midnight gazer's eye;
But I know of an eye of darker sheen
Than hath e'er in the sea or sky been seen.
Oh dark is the midnight sky!
And dark are the depths of the shoreless sea,
As deeply dark as dark can be
To the midnight gazer's eye;
But I know of an eye of darker sheen
Than hath e'er in the sea or sky been seen.
Soft and clear is the gentle moon, Mary!
Soft and clear is the gentle moon!
And soft in its languid tenderness
Is the mist from the flower of the wilderness,
In the blaze of the sun at noon;
But I know of an eye whose dewy light
Is softer than flower-mist, or dew at night.
Soft and clear is the gentle moon!
And soft in its languid tenderness
Is the mist from the flower of the wilderness,
In the blaze of the sun at noon;
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Is softer than flower-mist, or dew at night.
Oh bright is an angel's eye, Mary!
Oh bright is an angel's eye!
When the dreaming man doth feel its ray,
In his sinful soul, like dawn of day,
A herald from the sky.
But oh, even that is not so bright
As my Mary's eye of love and light.
Oh bright is an angel's eye!
When the dreaming man doth feel its ray,
In his sinful soul, like dawn of day,
A herald from the sky.
But oh, even that is not so bright
As my Mary's eye of love and light.
Guisborough.
| The bard, and minor poems | |