Mapping Indigenous Poetry of North America, 1830-1924

"Rosa Dunn" by John Rollin Ridge

I'LL tell thee of a maiden fair, 
A bird of beauty, child of fun, 
A living joy is in her air, 
And her sweet name is Rosa Dunn. 

Her winning mouth and laughing eye 
Have lovers wounded, many a one, 
And hundreds now are fain to die 
For her dear sake, Rosa Dunn.

Where'er she moves to her rare form
Are all pure sweets and beauties won, 
And, blent with every glowing charm, 
All nature breathes in Rosa Dunn. 

She walks at morning mid the flowers, 
And drinks their freshness like the sun, 
And all the blooms of Eden bowers 
Are in the cheeks of Rosa Dunn. 

The rose she kisses leaves its red 
Upon those lips no bee would shun,
And all the roses that are dead 
Have died to live in Rosa Dunn. 

If roams she 'neath the evening light 
The stars her beauty smile upon; 
The love and tenderness of night
Are in the eyes Rosa Dunn.

A twin Aurora of the Dawn, 
Until she rise no Day's begun, 
And Night and Day to me are gone,
When sleep enfoldeth Rosa Dunn.

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