Part 12 (1/2)
Beneath the gold acacia buds My gentle Nora sits and broods, Far, far away in Boston woods My gentle Nora!
I see the tear-drop in her e'e, Her bosom's heaving tenderly; I know--I know she thinks of me, My Darling Nora!
And where am I? My love, whilst thou Sitt'st sad beneath the acacia bough, Where pearl's on neck, and wreath on brow, I stand, my Nora!
Mid carcanet and coronet, Where joy-lamps s.h.i.+ne and flowers are set-- Where England's chivalry are met, Behold me, Nora!
In this strange scene of revelry, Amidst this gorgeous chivalry, A form I saw was like to thee, My love--my Nora!
She paused amidst her converse glad; The lady saw that I was sad, She pitied the poor lonely lad,-- Dost love her, Nora?
In sooth, she is a lovely dame, A lip of red, and eye of flame, And cl.u.s.tering golden locks, the same As thine, dear Nora?
Her glance is softer than the dawn's, Her foot is lighter than the fawn's, Her breast is whiter than the swan's, Or thine, my Nora!
Oh, gentle breast to pity me!
Oh, lovely Ladye Emily!
Till death--till death I'll think of thee-- Of thee and Nora!
TO MARY.
I seem, in the midst of the crowd, The lightest of all; My laughter rings cheery and loud, In banquet and ball.
My lip hath its smiles and its sneers, For all men to see; But my soul, and my truth, and my tears, Are for thee, are for thee!
Around me they flatter and fawn-- The young and the old.
The fairest are ready to p.a.w.n Their hearts for my gold.
They sue me--I laugh as I spurn The slaves at my knee; But in faith and in fondness I turn Unto thee, unto thee!
SERENADE.
Now the toils of day are over, And the sun hath sunk to rest, Seeking, like a fiery lover, The bosom of the blus.h.i.+ng west--
The faithful night keeps watch and ward, Raising the moon her silver s.h.i.+eld, And summoning the stars to guard The slumbers of my fair Mathilde!
The faithful night! Now all things lie Hid by her mantle dark and dim, In pious hope I hither hie, And humbly chant mine ev'ning hymn.
Thou art my prayer, my saint, my shrine!