POEMS.
53
Such eyes she has of golden brown,
As if the sun had caught them,
Like shining lamps—as if some sprite
With fire had made and wrought them.
As if the sun had caught them,
Like shining lamps—as if some sprite
With fire had made and wrought them.
And then what singer on the stage,
Dressed finely in the fashion,
Can rival her soft velvet fur
And gaze of wayward passion?
Dressed finely in the fashion,
Can rival her soft velvet fur
And gaze of wayward passion?
Or own a footfall half as light
With cushioned feet so tender,
And little ears so quaintly set
Upon a headpiece slender.
With cushioned feet so tender,
And little ears so quaintly set
Upon a headpiece slender.
For me she sings with ne'er a thought
For money or for praises:
Oh! may her grave when she doth die
Be crowned with simple daisies.
For money or for praises:
Oh! may her grave when she doth die
Be crowned with simple daisies.
Of cats she is the cat of cats,
The "Empress" is her title,
But hark! will any one take seats,
She's giving a recital!!
The "Empress" is her title,
But hark! will any one take seats,
She's giving a recital!!
ABANDONED DREAMS.
THE sunny heights and golden dreams
That light the path of fame
Are mine no more—I do not crave
As once I craved a name.
That light the path of fame
Are mine no more—I do not crave
As once I craved a name.
