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The heir of Rookwood.
To Rookwood, next to me, with Ernestine,
Had plotted for himself, or did hut wing
Some idle hours, unthoughtful of the future
My marriage was to mar, at Lilia's side,
I never knew.
'Tis many years since then;
And while I write in Rookwood's library,
The velvet shadows of an August evening
Slant down the lawn, and on a grassy bank
Beneath the window where I sit, is Lilia.
Her braided hair lies smooth upon her brow.
Her blue eyes have grown thoughtful, though her lips
Have the same passionate life. The babe she rocks
Upon her bosom has a brow no calmer.
All her wild ways have fallen from my Lilia,
As its superfluous blossoms from the tree.
My boy, who lies beside her on the lawn,
Plays with his brace of pointers.
Ernestine
Is Arthur's wife, and mistress of his home
And heart. Her beauty has been praised by kings.
Her face is welcome at our English court.
Had plotted for himself, or did hut wing
Some idle hours, unthoughtful of the future
My marriage was to mar, at Lilia's side,
I never knew.
'Tis many years since then;
And while I write in Rookwood's library,
The velvet shadows of an August evening
Slant down the lawn, and on a grassy bank
Beneath the window where I sit, is Lilia.
Her braided hair lies smooth upon her brow.
Her blue eyes have grown thoughtful, though her lips
Have the same passionate life. The babe she rocks
Upon her bosom has a brow no calmer.
All her wild ways have fallen from my Lilia,
As its superfluous blossoms from the tree.
My boy, who lies beside her on the lawn,
Plays with his brace of pointers.
Ernestine
Is Arthur's wife, and mistress of his home
And heart. Her beauty has been praised by kings.
Her face is welcome at our English court.
