Page:Southern Life in Southern Literature.djvu/213

Rh Sleep not! thine image wakes for aye,
 * Within my watching breast:

Sleep not! from her soft sleep should fly,
 * Who robs all hearts of rest.

Nay, Lady, from thy slumbers break,
 * And make this darkness gay,

With looks, whose brightness well might make
 * Of darker nights a day.

I fill this cup to one made up
 * Of loveliness alone,

A woman, of her gentle sex
 * The seeming paragon;

To whom the better elements
 * And kindly stars have given

A form so fair, that, like the air,
 * 'T is less of earth than heaven.

Her every tone is music's own,
 * Like those of morning birds,

And something more than melody
 * Dwells ever in her words;

The coinage of her heart are they,
 * And from her lips each flows

As one may see the burthened bee
 * Forth issue from the rose.

Affections are as thoughts to her,
 * The measures of her hours;

Her feelings have the fragrancy,
 * The freshness, of young flowers;