All glorious as a Rainbow's birth,
She came in Spring-tide's golden hours;
When Heaven went hand-in-hand with Earth,
And May was crown'd with buds and flowers!
The mounting devil at my heart
Clomb faintlier, as my life did win
The charméd heaven, she wrought apart,
To wake its slumbering Angel in!
With radiant mien she trode serene,
And past me smiling by!
O! who that lookt could chance but love?
Not I, sweet soul, not I.
Her budding breasts, like fragrant fruit,
Peer'd out, a-yearning to be prest:
Her voice shook all my heart's red root!
Yet might not break a babe's soft rest!
Her being mingled into mine,
As breath of flowers doth mix and melt,
And on her lips the honey-wine
Was royal-rich as spikenard spilt;
With love a-gush, like water-brooks,
Her heart smiled in her eye;
O! who that lookt could chance but love?
Not I, sweet soul, not I.
The dewy eyelids of the Dawn
Ne'er oped such heaven as hers can show:
O Love! such eyes have surely shone
As jewels in some starry brow!
Her brow flasht glory like a shrine,
Or lily-bell with sunburst bright;
Where came and went love-thoughts divine,
As low winds walk the leaves in light:
She wore her beauty with the grace
Of Summer's star-clad sky;
O! who that lookt could chance but love?
Not I, sweet soul, not I.
