to little may vincent.
101
TO LITTLE MAY VINCENT.
My wee-bit, bonny, blue-eyed May!
Well fits the name we gave in play;
For Spring, with all her tears and smiles,
Her frolic frowns and wooing wiles,
Is just like thee—so fresh, so bright,
With breath of balm and eyes of light.
My treasure, May! my nestling dove!
My wild-flower, nursed by Hope and Love
My sunlit gem! my morning star!
Oh! there is nothing near or far,
Of soft or beautiful or free,
That does not mind my heart of thee.
Yet all combined,—star, blossom, bird,
Bring to it no such joy divine,
As the first charily-utter'd word
That falters from those lips of thine.
Well fits the name we gave in play;
For Spring, with all her tears and smiles,
Her frolic frowns and wooing wiles,
Is just like thee—so fresh, so bright,
With breath of balm and eyes of light.
My treasure, May! my nestling dove!
My wild-flower, nursed by Hope and Love
My sunlit gem! my morning star!
Oh! there is nothing near or far,
Of soft or beautiful or free,
That does not mind my heart of thee.
Yet all combined,—star, blossom, bird,
Bring to it no such joy divine,
As the first charily-utter'd word
That falters from those lips of thine.
