To L—- (Written for a Friend)   Leave a comment

Above:  Portrait of Jeanna Samary, by Pierre-Auguste Renoir


Thy form, sweetest girl,

Ruby lips, teach of pearl,

And thy fair auburn curl,

I truly adore.

Yet when as the snow,

Thy tresses shall flow,

And thy cheeks cease to glow,

I will love thee still more.


My tongue can not tell,

Yet thou knowest full well

The emotions that swell

In my heart for thy sake.

Greatest pleasure I find,

When thou are entwiend

In the thoughts of my mind,

If asleep or awake.


As the beacon’s clear light

Through the long stormy night,

Guides the sailor aright

O’er the deep, troubled sea;

So ‘lt thou, my own dear,

On life’s ocean drear,

A solace and cheer

To my heart ever be.


As the vine’s fragile form

Stretches out its weak arm

For a stay ‘gainst the storm

And whereon to recline,

So my heart, sad and lone,

Grasps for thee, dearest one.

Save thee, there is none

That its love would entwine.


What the causes that move me,

That thus I should love thee?

Fair Aurora above–see

Her red tapers burn.

But why they enliven

The far Northern heaven,

It has never been given

Unto man to discern.


See yon stars twinkling bright

On the brow of the night;

Suffice it, their light

Comes down from above;

Then ask not the why,

But believe me, that I,

Until I shall die,

Shall not cease to love.


Posted August 11, 2012 by neatnik2009 in John Dodson Taylor Sr.--Poems, Love 1800s

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