________________________________________________
Title: Natura
Author: Cotton Noe [
More Titles by Noe]
O beauteous maid, my heart is thine;
I lay its dearest offering at thy feet;
I burn its sweetest incense on thy shrine,
For thou, sweet maid, art all divine,
For worship thou art meet.
Let those who never felt the glow
That summer suns have spread o'er flowery meads,
Whose hearts have never thrilled at arch-ed bow,
Or when the cascade's crystal flow
Is sparkling into beads,
Deny thy charms. To me thy smile
Is sweeter boon than untried worlds can yield;
No creed of priests can ever lure me while
Thy wondrous love so free from guile,
Is everywhere revealed.
The severing clouds at early dawn
Blush red as roses bursting into bloom
At thy deft touch; and on the dewy lawn
The drapery of night withdrawn
I find no hint of gloom.
And when at noon the streets I quit
For dappled shade or thickest leafy bower,
Then, blushing, thou dost come with me to sit
And read the poems thou hast writ
In leaf and tint of flower.
At evening walking arm in arm
With thee through glen or by the river's brink,
I watch the shades descend o'er distant farm
And still the world has lost no charm
That soul can wish or think.
The loom of fancy never wove
Beneath the starlit skies of southern seas
A dream of beauty thy enchanting love
On hill or stream or sheltered cove,
Or on the open leas
Has not supplied; and thou, sweet maid,
Dost never weary, but from day to day,
And season unto season, every shade
In sky or cloud is new inlaid
With colors soft or gay.
Yon mountain late enrobed in snow
Thou clothest now in dress of shimmering green;
Ere long another garb wilt thou bestow
Upon her, lest thy lover grow
Aweary of the scene.
And when the sheen of summer sky
Shall fade into October's sombre gray,
And Autumn's gayest flowers a-withered lie,
For me yon mountain thou will tie
Into a rare bouquet.
[The end]
Cotton Noe's poem: Natura
________________________________________________
GO TO TOP OF SCREEN
