C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
Alexander Smith (18301867)
The Lady Blanche
T
Not proud, but meek, her look;
In her hazel eyes her thoughts lay clear
As pebbles in a brook.
His hall rose ’mid the trees;
Like a sunbeam she came and went
’Mong the white cottages.
When food and clothes were given:
“This is a joy,” the lady said,
“Saints cannot taste in heaven.”
His hopes, despairs, and pains;
The lady with her calm eyes mocked
The tumult in his veins.
From cloud of his despair,
As lightning like a bright wild beast
Leaps from its thunder-lair.
Bright heirs of tears and praises!
Now resteth that unquiet heart
Beneath the quiet daisies.
The wild winds weep and rave;
The world is old, and gray, and cold,—
Let it drop into its grave.