  Leonainie—Angels named her; And they took the light Of the laughing stars and framed her In a smile of white; And they made her hair of gloomy Midnight, and her eyes of bloomy Moonshine, and they brought her to me In the solemn night.— In a solemn night of summer, When my heart of gloom Blossomed up to greet the comer Like a rose in bloom; All forebodings that distressed me I forgot as Joy caressed me— (Lying Joy! that caught and pressed me In the arms of doom!) Only spake the little lisper In the Angel-tongue; Yet I, listening, heard her whisper,— “Songs are only sung Here below that they may grieve you— Tales but told you to deceive you,— So must Leonainie leave you While her love is young.” Then God smiled and it was morning. Matchless and supreme Heaven’s glory seemed adorning Earth with its esteem: Every heart but mine seemed gifted With the voice of prayer, and lifted Where my Leonainie drifted |
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