Page:Maryland, my Maryland, and other poems - Randall - 1908.pdf/109



You gave me flowers in the crimson eves,
 * Down by the garden gate,

Where, on his throne of glad geranium leaves,
 * The Grand Duke sat in state.

You pitied him—the Grand Duke—and you sent
 * A rare and budding bride,

A lithe and fragrant Duchess, dew-be-sprent,
 * Snow-bosomed and blue-eyed.

Anon, the Grand Duke frowned and stood apart—
 * The cold and bashful churl!

Until you bound them, darling, heart to heart,
 * With one enamored curl.

Ah me! I have the plaintive bouquet here,
 * With all its lustre fled;

The lissome bride on her geranium bier,
 * And the dear Grand Duke—dead.

And many sad and sombre thoughts arise
 * Within me and without;

Spectres of flowerets pictured on mine eyes,
 * Robed in a shroud of doubt.