A Woman's Choice.
27
A WOMAN'S CHOICE.
Was I dreaming, was I waking, when the cares of day were o'er,
In the twilight, when the firelight glowed and shimmered on the floor,
Was it art of necromancer, fairy spell, or wizard's power
That enthralled my vagrant spirit in that dusk of evening hour?
Sooth I know not: I was weary, weary of the cares of day,
Longing for some flight of fancy, tired of work and tired of play.
And I sighed, oh fair enchantress, bring to me thy magic spell,
Lift the clouds that veil the ages, and their hidden secrets tell.
Find me romance, bring me visions, lives of women show to me,
Plain as artist paints the picture on the canvas that I see.
In the twilight, when the firelight glowed and shimmered on the floor,
Was it art of necromancer, fairy spell, or wizard's power
That enthralled my vagrant spirit in that dusk of evening hour?
Sooth I know not: I was weary, weary of the cares of day,
Longing for some flight of fancy, tired of work and tired of play.
And I sighed, oh fair enchantress, bring to me thy magic spell,
Lift the clouds that veil the ages, and their hidden secrets tell.
Find me romance, bring me visions, lives of women show to me,
Plain as artist paints the picture on the canvas that I see.
