Poesy

Eulalie

I dwelt aloneIn a world of moan,And my soul was a stagnant tide,Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride--Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride.Ah, less--less brightThe stars of the nightThan the eyes of the radiant girl!And never a flakeThat the vapor can makeWith the moon-tints of purple and pearl,Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most unregarded curl--Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's most humble and carelesscurl.Now Doubt--now PainCome never again,For her soul gives me sigh for sigh,And all day longShines, bright and strong,Astarté within the sky,While ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron eye--While ever to her young Eulalie upturns her violet eye.

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