POEMS OF JAMES RYDER RANDALL
Love! it was thy meek eyes and gentle words
That gave my spirit sight,
And it will follow thee to higher laws
Through the dim Vale of Night.
MALISON
I promised no reproach, Elise,
Though all thy flimsy vows were fickle;
My slender-necked anemones
Have perished by thy crafty sickle;
Well! let them go, though soiled and stolen,
And headless, too, as Anna Boleyn—
Ay, let them go, though debonnair
With hazel, poppy-perfumed hair.
I’ll not reproach, Elise, but I
Will make my malediction lie
Upon thee, feathery as a sigh;
Till from abysmal peaks of woe
My curse shall shroud thee with its snow;
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