Page:The Improvisatrice.pdf/186

174

She has now more than that to love, And the loved one sat by her there. And by the sweet acacia porch They drank the softness of the breeze.— Oh more than lovely are love's dreams, 'Mid lights and blooms and airs like these! And sometimes she would leave his side, And like a spirit round him glide: A light shawl wreathed now round her brow, Now waving from her hand of snow, Now zoned around her graceful waist, And now like fetters round her placed; And then, flung suddenly aside, Her many curls, instead, unbound, Waved in fantastic braids, till loosed, Her long dark tresses swept the ground;