To the Little Lady Alice
No dew distils on Georgia's hills,
Or yet Circassia's valleys,
That leaves a pearl on lily's curl
As pure as Lady Alice!
My lily-pet! my violet!
My little Lady Alice!
As rare as rise through Southern skies
Aurora-borealis! —
As rare as Rose on Northern snows,
Or heart's ease in a palace,
Is she sprite! my brownie bright!
My little Lady Alice!
The wise old Greek his fate might seek,
And bear his foes no malice;
And so might I, my idol's eye,
If you but bore the chalice,
And drink to thee in three times three,
My little Lady Alice!
My heart's delight! my star of night!
My perfect little chrysolite!
My little Lady Alice!
Or yet Circassia's valleys,
That leaves a pearl on lily's curl
As pure as Lady Alice!
My lily-pet! my violet!
My little Lady Alice!
As rare as rise through Southern skies
Aurora-borealis! —
As rare as Rose on Northern snows,
Or heart's ease in a palace,
Is she sprite! my brownie bright!
My little Lady Alice!
The wise old Greek his fate might seek,
And bear his foes no malice;
And so might I, my idol's eye,
If you but bore the chalice,
And drink to thee in three times three,
My little Lady Alice!
My heart's delight! my star of night!
My perfect little chrysolite!
My little Lady Alice!
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.