Poems (Terry, 1861)/Wood laurel
WOOD LAUREL.
Queen regnant of the summer wood,That hearest thrush and hangbird cry,With such a dream-like majestyAs crowns thee, out of solitude,The fairest flower that ever stood,Impassive, safe from sympathy.
Light roseate cloud of dawning day,Hung floating in the gloom of leaves,Vainly for thee the night-wind grieves,Vainly all forest-murmurs stray.In thy cold blossoms vainly playThe thousand love-songs Nature weaves.
So pure, so perfect, so serene,With tender, mocking blushes dyed,The cankerous honey-dew of pride,Charms soft and deadly in thy mien,The natural sceptre of a queen,Heart frozen, but half deified.
Beware, oh glancing butterfly!The rosy bloom is sweet to see,But have thou care of majesty,The serf that loves the queen must die.Gay, living blossom! dance and flyTo humbler feasts, secure for thee.
Assiduous honey-bee, beware!Those bright cups glow with poisoned wine;The wild-rose and the columbineHave simple treasures, safe to share.This regal beauty holds thy snare,The form, but not the soul, divine.