Eulalie

               I dwelt alone
               In a world of moan,
           And my soul was a stagnant tide,
  Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride--
  Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride.
               Ah, less--less bright
               The stars of the night
           Than the eyes of the radiant girl!
               And never a flake
               That the vapor can make
           With the moon-tints of purple and pearl,
  Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most unregarded curl--
  Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's most humble and careless
    curl.
               Now Doubt--now Pain
               Come never again,
           For her soul gives me sigh for sigh,
               And all day long
               Shines, bright and strong,
           Astart� within the sky,
  While ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron eye--
  While ever to her young Eulalie upturns her violet eye.
1845.

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