Poems (Osgood)/Love's Reply
LOVE'S REPLY.
I'll tell you something chanced to me, (A quaint and simple story,) Before I cross'd, with dreaming heart Old ocean's gloom and glory.
Around me came three graceful girls, Their farewell whisper breathing,—Julie,—with light and lovely curls, Her snowy shoulders wreathing;
And proud Georgine,—with stately mien, And glance of calm hauteur, Who moves—a Grace,—and looks—a queen, All passionless and pure;
And Kate, whose low, melodious tone Is tuned by Truth and Feeling, Whose shy yet wistful eyes talk on, When fear her lips is sealing.
"From what far country shall I write?" I ask'd, with pride elated, "From what rare monument of art Shall be my letters dated?"
Julie toss'd back her locks of light, With girlish grace and glee,—"To me from glorious Venice write, Queen-city of the Sea!"
"And thou, Georgine?" Her dark eyes flash'd,— "Ah! date to me your lines From some proud palace, where the pomp Of olden Honor shines!"
But Kate,—the darling of my soul, My bright, yet bashful flower, In whose dear heart some new, pure leaf, Seems to unfold each hour,—
Kate turn'd her shy, sweet looks from mine, Lest I her blush should see, And said—so only Love could hear— "Write from your heart to me!"