Pine, Rose and Fleur de Lis

by Susie Frances Harrison


 

THE VOYAGUER


 

Like the swarthy son of some tropic shore
       He sleeps, with his olive bosom bar’d,
He sleeps—in his earrings of brassy ore.

Like a tawny tiger whom hot hours bore,
       When all night long he has growled and glar’d

5
At the swarthy son of some tropic shore,

Like a fierce-ey’d blossom with heart of gore
       That too long in the sun-flush’d fields has flar’d,
He sleeps—in his earrings of brassy ore,

And his scarlet sash that he gaily wore

10
       To tempt Madelon—who his heart has snar’d,
Like the swarthy son of some tropic shore.

That dusky form might a queen adore—
       Prenez garde, Madelon, for a season spar’d,
He sleeps—in his earrings of brassy ore.

15

For a season only. What may be in store
       For Madelon? She who has never car’d!
       *        *        *        *        *        *        *
Like the swarthy son of some tropic shore
He sleeps—in his earrings of brassy ore.
 

 


 

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