Thomas Moore - OmensThomas Moore - Omens
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When daylight was yet sleeping under the pillow,
And stars in the heavens still lingering shone,
Young Kitty, all blushing, rose up from her pillow,
The last time she e`er was to press it alone.
For the youth whom she treasured her heart and her soul in
Had promised to link the last tie before noon;
And when once the young heart of a maiden is stolen,
The maiden herself will steal after it soon.
As she look`d in the glass, which a woman ne`er misses,
Nor ever wants time for a sly glance or two,
A butterfly,[1] fresh from the night-flower`s kisses,
Flew over the mirror, and shaded her view.
Enraged with the insect for hiding her graces,
She brush`d him — he fell, alas! never to rise;
"Ah! such," said the girl, "is the pride of our faces,
For which the soul`s innocence too often dies."
While she stole through the garden, where heart`s-ease was growing,
She cull`d some, and kiss`d off its night-fallen dew;
And a rose, further on, look`d so tempting and glowing,
That, spite of her haste, she must gather it too:
But while o`er the roses too carelessly leaning,
Her zone flew in two, and the heart`s-ease was lost:
"Ah! this means," said the girl (and she sigh`d at its meaning),
"That love is scarce worth the repose it will cost!"
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