The Arctic Queen, page 29 by Unknown
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hou and I did'st one time idly dream!
There breathe the passionate breath of orange-flowers-- Walk in the sunlight till thy brows are flushed
With its warm kisses--plunge thy snowy feet
In the embracing waves and silver sand--
Shake down magnolia-blossoms on thy hair--
Answer the nightingales' delicious song
With thy sweet cries--and, on bright eves, look up
And charm the moon upon her lingering way
With that soft fire of thine entrancing eyes!
Thou wilt not for regret or tears find time.
Some lover, clothed in human dignity
And tangible robes of life, will haunt thy steps,
Drawing up, with magnetic looks, the smiles
Which lie deep down in thy now tearful orbs;
And, wiling from their blissful hiding-place,
The bashful dimples to thy blushing cheeks,
And,--it may be--with human eloquence,
Beguile thy hand to rest within his own,
Sitting, as we have sat,--thy glossy hair
Rippling in golden waves across his breast."
"Can he be mad as well as dead?" the girl
Murmured aside! and then her sorrowing brow
She lifted proudly, while a sudden fire
Sprang to her lips and eyes--her trembling voice
Steadied itself on her unfaltering love.--
"Forgive me, BERTHO, that my woman's heart,
Finding thee thus, should, for an instant, only,
Shrink back from thee in awe and deep regret.
My love, which has endured so much, grows strong
In its endurance; and it only asks
That I may never from thy side be driven.
Talk not of islands in a sunny sea,
Or fragrant blooms, or singing nightingales!
I love them not. My father's marble floors
Were colder than the icy plains I've passed,
When thy dear footsteps fled them. Be content.
Love like our own needs not the warmth of sighs
Or soft caresses to keep pure the fire
Upon the sacred shrine; 'twill burn as bright,
Though never by the breath of kisses fanned;
'Tis not a fading blossom--nor a bird