Margarita Singing Ballads

DARK her eyes of tranquil wonder;
Dark her smoothly banded hair;
Broad and calm her brow and bosom
Rising white in shadow where
Tall she stands by the valley window
Singing soft to the evening air.

Hush! ’t is the tune of sweet Ben Lomond,
Poignant sweet and timbrel clear.
Now when falls her wistful cadence,
O that forest and field could hear!
Thrilling rise and tender cadence,
Low and long in the dreaming ear.

Pause not yet: the sands are fleeting;
Fast, too fast, the moments run.
Lo the strains of Allan Water;
(Amber tears in April sun.)
She breathes; and sings The Bailiff’s Daughter,
The wayside lover of Islington.

Yield the charm, melodious hour!
Distant valley chimes, forbear!
Hark the rainbow shower of grace-notes,
Fall of sounds how light, how fair!
Is it a voice of earth or elf-land
Singing The Lass with the Delicate Air?