PART I.
Love caught his heart in a lovely surprise,
Just the first moment he looked in my
eyes:
Poor little eyes! by no prescience lit,
They saw him three weeks ere I lov’d
him one bit.
Fair is the book[1] where we read of a
life
Born to a throne, taking love for its
bliss,
Self-reproach wounding the sweet royal
wife
For keeping two years he had asked for
as his.
[Footnote 1: See ‘Life of Prince Consort,’ vol. i.]
So I might suffer a sort of remorse,
Thinking of days that I cared not, yet
knew;
Only, he says, ’’Tis a matter
of course
Girls should be woo’d and their
lovers should woo.’
Only, the blossom he stoops not to touch.
Sparkling with beauty that lies at his
feet;
Only, the blossom he coveteth much,
Is one that shineth as distant as sweet.
Only, a bird may fly helplessly near,
Chirping aloud in a manner too free;
Only, the bird he delighteth to hear,
Sings from the far-away top of a tree.
Is it for this he first fancied me, then?
He to whom earth her allegiance brings,
Noblest of nobles, a king among men,
Hero of heroes! a god among kings!
’Twill be very nice to be very old,
And with wrinkled brows and eyes that
are dim,
To sit by the fire and in dreams behold
The face of the child that was woo’d
by him.
Eve in her Eden, belov’d and preferr’d,
Sun, moon, and stars for her benefit made,
Bright as a blossom and gay as a bird,
Earth at her feet like a pleasure-ground
laid;
All things about her benignant and fair—
Was she of Adam an actual part?
Love shining over her everywhere—
Had he no trouble in winning her heart?
Born with a mind even Kant must admit
Had no antecedents for doubt or regret,
Only white paper where nothing is writ,
Was she his wife the first moment they
met?
Did she no gradual wooing receive?
Was she never a girl?—I am
sorry for Eve!
Or if like others her history sped,
In those lovely regions to mortals unknown;
Flirting and courting and woo’d
ere she wed,
Was the bird of her paradise Eve’s
chaperone?
I wonder if Adam my fancy would strike
As something like Harry!—What
is Harry like?
Handsome and tall, with command in his
eye,
The sweetest of smiles giving sternness
the lie;
His soldierly bearing keeps foemen at
bay;
His hair is clipped close in the orthodox
way;
His nose has a curve from the bridge to
the tip:
A statue might envy his short upper lip.
He dances divinely, and walks with an
air
Half autocratic and half debonair,
With something about him no words can
define:
Eve, was your hero as handsome as mine?