"Florence Vane," by Philip Pendleton Cooke
I loved thee long, and dearly; Florence Vane; My life’s bright dream and early Hath come again; I renew, in my fond vision, My heart’s dear pain, — My hopes, and thy derision, Florence Vane. The ruin, lone and hoary, The ruin old Where thou didst hark my story At even told— That spot—the hues elysian— Of sky and plain— I treasure in my vision, Florence Vane. Thou wast lovelier than the roses In their prime Thy voice excelled the closes Of sweetest rhyme; Thy heart was as a river Without a main Would I had loved thee never Florence Vane. But, fairest, coldest wonder! Thy glorious day Lieth the green sod under— Alas, the day! And it boots not to remember Thy disdain, To quicken love’s pale ember, Florence Vane. The lilies of the valley By young graves weep; And the daisies love to dally Where maiden’s sleep. May their bloom in beauty vying Never wane Where thine earthly part is lying Florence Vane! Philip Pendleton Cooke Born in Martinsburg Va. 1816 | Biography of Philip Pendleton Cooke A Formal Description of "Florence Vane" An Explication of "Florence Vane" |
