Page:Maryland, my Maryland, and other poems - Randall - 1908.pdf/89

 And there in a niche by the colonnade,
 * Alone with the crisp and biting breeze,

I counted the curves by the river made,
 * And the grenadier-like trees.

And I vow that the cold and dark to me
 * Were better than melody, wit and wine,

For I saw, what never on earth should be,
 * Under the chill moonshine.

I saw by the sinewy river side
 * A willowy cottage, neat and white,

Where the bayou ripples prank and glide
 * To the clover aleft and right.

And a damsel, shaming the damsels here,
 * With nought of their satin and silk and pearls,

She—in a modest, maidenly sphere,
 * They—like the Gwazee girls!

Oh, how I worshipped you then and there,
 * The mother of God alone can tell—

With the bandeau dimming your starry hair,
 * And your hand in mine, Estelle!