MY IDOL.
Flushing and fair, Like summer rosebud in the sun, With grey eyes sparkling 'neath their silv’ry dewdrop sheen ; Her raven hair A spider’s silky cobweb spun— With swan-like marble throat—a thrice imperial queen. A rich red rose Rests proudly on her heart, I see, Kissing its throbbings, hiding all its flutt'ring fear ; And Cupid knows How gladly would I ever be A rose by prosy, nestling in there. She knows it not, The wish that flies upon the wind Around her, from one heart that crushes all its pain And pulses hot With torrent passions mutely blind Soothed by a sigh long drawn, and drowned by tearful rain. Unceasingly . By pagan worshipped— one who stoops To kiss the cold grey ground her fairy foot had trod, And dreamily Love scenes with her around him groups That vanish with the hour and leave his heart a clod. What mad regret! I know her not—her voiceless slave— And like the heathen bending daily to the sun ; Whose rise and set Remains his life down to the grave ; So she will be my life until its days are done. Fabian De Lisle, April 2nd, 1895.
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Bibliographic details
New Zealand Mail, Issue 1210, 10 May 1895, Page 11
Word Count
194MY IDOL. New Zealand Mail, Issue 1210, 10 May 1895, Page 11
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