"To A Young Lady" John Rollin Ridge
Oh maiden of the sweet blue eye!
And with him on his crimson couch
All tenderest of Graces lie.
His breathings through thy parted lips
Are balmy as the breeze that blows
From islands of the Indian seas,
And with their light and bloom he glows.
I hear him whispering of the dreams
He dreams! he whispers soft and low,
Like murmurings on some pearly strand,
Where rippling waters come and go.
He breathed no name, but there is one
Whom he and all the gods adore;
The bright ideal one, the strong, the brave,
Who yet shall come from Heaven's own shore.
Oh hearts of roses! lily's lives!
To wed with him were bliss divine,
Oh happy husbands, happy wives,
If souls were all like his and thine!