Tuesday, December 30, 2025

Amy

by Mortimer Collins.

Originally published in Temple Bar–A London Magazine for Town and Country Readers (Ward and Lock) vol.2 #7 (Jun 1861).


Summer.

                Amy the beautiful leaned from the ledge
                Of an oriel, snowy with clematis-bloom:
                The south wind sighed through the river sedge.

                Far off, the old sea's resonant boom
                Rolled without cease under moon and stars—
                Music weird of the midnight gloom.

                The Giant of Night wore ruby Mars
                As a gem on his finger. Hesper shone
                Like a beacon over the mountain scaurs.

                One amethyst gleam of the sunset gone
                Touched the maiden's chesnut hair:
                A coronal Summer had set thereon.

                The wind's low whisper every where
                Ran through the leaves with a rustle of life,
                As I watched my Amy unaware;

                As rose in my heart the deep love-strife
                For that sweet girl-blossom in clematis-snow,
                To woo her and win her, a darling wife.

                She passed from my sight. To the sea below,
                Where, under the stars, it coiled and curled
                In endless ebb and tremulous flow,

                The restless pulse of a sleeping world,
                I went, in the clutch of a sweet unrest,
                And watched the banners of Night unfurled,

                And the nebule widen over the west.
                With me went odour of clematis-musk,
                And a vision of beauty Saxon-tressed

                Haunted the depths of the mystic dusk;
                And a soft shy glance of a lustrous eye
                Dwelt in my heart, as a gem in the husk

                Of worthless earth. O musical sigh
                Of the summer south wind, breathe thou sweet
                On Amy, wandering under the sky:

                And strew fresh blossoms at Amy's feet,
                When deep in the moss the wind flowers lie,
                And afar in the woodland glades we meet.


Winter.

                Ring merrily out the Sarum bells
                O'er wild Wilts wolds o'erblown with snow,
                Where the tyrant Spirit of Winter dwells.

                But hotter than Summer my blood's free flow:
                For the rich girl-blossom is plucked, is mine—
                Mine through the valleys of earth to go.

                Oh, now may I gaze in her deep gray eyne!
                For Amy is mine, my own, my bride:
                Her absolute beauty, her truth divine,—

                Are they not mine? O moorlands wide,
                Where the east wind, eddying fierce and swift,
                Hurries the snow-storm's turbulent tide,

                Piling it high in a perilous drift,—
                Are ye not beautiful? Will there be aught
                Sweeter when maidenly Spring shall lift

                Her delicate foot in the woodlands, fraught
                With colour and odour? Will there be
                Sweeter musical cadence caught

                By the wanderer's ear in the forest free,
                When vernal rivulets ripple delight
                By moss-grown boles of the old elm-tree

                To the yellow star-clusters of primrose bright?
                Oh, whence this magical golden haze,
                This glamour that gladdens the snow-storm's flight,

                This incense burning through wintry days
                In my happy heart's strong altar-flame,
                Sweeter than breath of a million Mays?

                Only make answer with Amy's name—
                Amy the beautiful. Verily this
                Is the source whence the mystical glamour came—

                A fairy fount in the clematis,
                Whose icy waters, murmuring low,
                None ever have known, none ever may kiss

                But one—but I! whose amorous flow
                On my long earth-travel I shall not miss
                Till Death through the temple of Love shall go.

Written in a Copy of Lalla Rookh, Presented to —

Originally published in The Keepsake for 1828 (Hurst, Chance, and Co.; Nov 1827).                 With wishes fond, and vows that burn, ...