Page:Maryland, my Maryland, and other poems - Randall - 1908.pdf/142

  Love! it was thy meek eyes and gentle words
 * That gave my spirit sight,

And it will follow thee to higher laws Through the dim Vale of Night.

I promised no reproach, Elise, Though all thy flimsy vows were fickle; My slender-necked anemones Have perished by thy crafty sickle; Well! let them go, though soiled and stolen, And headless, too, as Anna Boleyn— Ay, let them go, though debonnair With hazel, poppy-perfumed hair. I’ll not reproach, Elise, but I Will make my malediction lie Upon thee, feathery as a sigh; Till from abysmal peaks of woe My curse shall shroud thee with its snow;