Angelina Weld Grimke (1880-1958)
ROSABEL I Leaves, that whisper, whisper ever, Listen, listen, pray; Birds, that twitter, twitter softly, Do not say me nay; Winds, that breathe about, upon her, (Since I do not dare) Whisper, twitter, breathe unto her That I find her fair. II Rose whose soul unfolds white petaled Touch her soul rose-white; Rose whose thoughts unfold gold petaled Blossom in her sight; Rose whose heart unfolds red petaled Quick her slow heart's stir; Tell her white, gold, red my love is; And for her, -- for her.
YOU I love your throat, so fragrant, fair, The little pulses beating there; Your eye-brows' shy and questioning air; I love your shadowed hair. I love your flame-touched ivory skin; Your little fingers frail and thin; Your dimple creeping out and in; I love your pointed chin. I love the way you move, you rise; Your fluttering gestures, just-caught cries; I am not sane, I am not wise, God! how I love your eyes!
Revised: November 30, 1996