NO fern-leaf sprang from mountain-moss, With blither grace than Mollie's, No lily on the lake across Had fairer face than Mollie's. And when the lily lifted up The bubbling bubbles in her cup From cut-glass pools where fern-maid's sup, She drank a health to Mollie. No wild-slow hid, 'neath tan and red, A ruddier blush than Mollie's, No wild-rose held a queenlier head Where sang the thrush than Mollie's. And when the red-thrush saw the maid— A glint of glory down the glade— He sang his sweetest serenade, A serenade for Mollie. No muscadine peeped from her vine With saucier eyes than Mollie's. No wild-bee sought her globes of wine With softer sighs than Mollie's, For when she sighed, and I did make Me bold, a trembling kiss to take, I saw them all—wine, roses, lake— All in the eyes of Mollie. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SHADOW-CASTING by JAMES GALVIN GIANT RED WOMAN by CLARENCE MAJOR BUCOLIC COMEDY: FOX TROT by EDITH SITWELL |