Another picture of my Love I have,
Painted in colors that will never fade-
The rosy glow, deep eyes and lustrous braid,
The scarlet lips, about whose sweets I rave-
All these are mirrored, as though fancy gave
My heart a rival for the living maid
Within my mind--a gracious, airy shade
That feigns to be the beauty whom I crave.
But this fair image has its proper life;
'Tis no mere specter of the limner's art;
It moves and speaks, and acts a vital part;
It bears the olive through my daily strife--
That paltry war, whose social lusts are rife--
It warbles nightly to my wounded heart.