Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO THE DAUGHTER OF A NYMPH, by AGNES COCHRAN BUAMBLETT



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TO THE DAUGHTER OF A NYMPH, by            
First Line: Your mother? You would know of her?
Last Line: And hush your lips to song!
Subject(s): Mothers


Your mother? You would know of her?
I cannot tell, my child,
None understood the heart of her
So passionate and wild!

Your mother was a vivid spark
Of phosphorescent fire,
She was the offspring of a dream,
A creature of desire.

She never took a marriage vow,
Or knew a marriage bed,
She was paramour to all four winds,
(So I have heard it said).

Her eyes were eerie beams of light,
Her breath a poignant breeze,
Her voice an aching, wind-blown flute
Echoing through the trees.

She was a phantom in the woods
When Pan was piping sweet,
Intent among the waving reeds
For flashes of his feet.

Days and nights upon his trail
She sped swift as a fawn,
Then like a tuft of eider down
Came drifting home at dawn.

The last I ever saw of her,
(I seem to see her yet)
She danced before an orange moon --
An ivory silhouette!

Four jealous winds stood on the hill,
Shrilling a fiery tune,
Watched her unwind a silver scarf
And hang it on the moon.

I don't know where she went, my child,
She's been gone ages long,
'Twere best you fetter your young heart,
And hush your lips to song!





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