Constancy. Blue Canterbury-Bell

BLUE CANTERBURY-BELL .

Through the fragrant grove of olives, with a dark-eyed child of Spain,
I have often whiled the hours; since I crossed the moaning main;
But the soul in those soft, brilliant eyes, the low, melodious tone,
Bade mournful thoughts of thee arise, my beautiful, my own!

'Mid the vines of sunny France, love, I have twined the silken curl,
And met the merry kisses, of a light and laughing girl,
And richly waved the glittering tress, and wildly woke her glee! —
I pined the more for thy caress — more fondly thought of thee!

A haughty, high-born English maid, oft shares, with me, the dance; —
Italia's daughter bends on me, her full, impassioned glance; —
Nor graceful mein — nor dimpled bloom — nor look of loving light,
Can win this faithful soul from thee, my purest, and most bright!
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