Eos: An Epic of the Dawn, and Other Poems

By Nicholas Flood Davin

 

VALENTINE.

 
A Flora’s head; from eyes a shower
    Of starlight over face and figure,
And in the mouth a sense of power,
    And in the step a note of vigour.

Hair, blacker than the murkiest night;
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    No pads, no friz—lynx-eyes may scan it;
The forehead, a piece of lunar light,
    Cut by an archway on white granite.

The column’d neck—but I must pause;
    My senses reel—what if I lose ’em!
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Old Hogarth’s line—sweet beauty’s laws
    Are folded in that ample bosom.

A form—no angel’s—rather than hers
    Who came with Neptune’s sunny spray lit,
We’d swear, or else my judgement errs,
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    If you had wings to fly away with.

We met, once in the busy street,
    And once when dancing ruled the season;
We did not dance—but yet your feet
    Bore me along in spite of reason.
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And so I sit to-day and weave
    This little wreath of careless rhyming,
And half I joy, and half I grieve,
    To know my name’s beyond divining. [Page 100]

As one might sing to some sweet star
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    Upon the young’s night’s forehead glowing,
I sing to you, so near—so far—
    Hold on your radiant course unknowing. [Page 101]