The Valentine Poem by Mary Weston Fordham

Lady with thine eyes of beauty
Rivaling cerulean flowers,
Where the love-beams seem to linger,
Throughout youth's bright, sunny hours.

With thy smile of witching sweetness
Like the magnet's mystic art,
Charming oft enchanting oft'ner,
Drawing to thee every heart.

But, fair lady, I'll no longer
Linger thus o'er nature's mould,
'Tis thy spirit's beauty charms me,
More than mines of Peru's gold.

Like an exile who hath wandered
Far from kindred and from home,
Pants and longs once more to greet them,
Never more on earth to roam;-

Like the tempest-tossed, the weary,
Who of earth ne'er had their part,
Fain would land their stricken spirits
Where heart answers unto heart;-

So this bosom when o'erflowing
With some latent, deadly grief,
Loves to revel in the music
Of thy voice to find relief.

And when joys do hover 'round me,
Weaving chaplets rich and bright,
I'd away from pleasures turn me
To my beautiful 'Starlight.'

Lady! could I seal thy future,
All of bliss and love 'twould be;
And when time with us is ended,
Spend eternity with thee.