University of Virginia Library


184

ANTOINETTE.

“She was a phantom of delight,
When first she gleamed upon my sight.”
Wordsworth.

Look, where she kneels—oh! never moonlight shone
Upon a form more elegantly fair;
The upraised eyes, bathed in the radiant dew
Of youthful loveliness—the vermeil lip
Half opened—like the scarlet pomegranate
Budding in warmth and fragrance—curved and small,
Oh! delicately small and slightly curved,—
Beautiful lip! ah, soft and brilliant shrine
Of love and harmony—and hope and thought!—
Sweet oracle—delicious counsellor—
Young, fervent, fond—how eloquent thou art!

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The tresses—like a warm and sunset cloud—
Half gold, half auburn; braid a brow whereon
Nature hath set her own immortal seal—
Her sign of seraph glory:—temple meet
For such a soul, instinct with love's best gifts,
With all life's sweet affections redolent:
Faith steadfast to the death—Love sanctified
By hope—and Hope immortalized by love!
Oh! I could gaze upon thee—till mine eyes
Became idolaters, and worshipp'd nought
Save thy surpassing beauty—oh! to leave
The gay, proud world, its tinsel and its toys,
And mid some green seclusion build a home
Fit for thy gentle beauty, my fair love;
Roses should twine for ever round the porch
Of our white cot, the snow anemone,
The blue germander, purple hyacinth,—
Like a pure augury of happiness,—
Should crown our lattice with their quiet grace,

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And I would love—oh! were it possible
To treasure up the whole dear sum of love
Possessed since the creation, I would deem
Almost that mine of bliss diminutive
To the deep passion of my soul for thee,—
My flower, my deity, my graceful girl!