A Vision.
By Edward Woodley Bowling
As hard at work I trimmed the midnight lamp,
Yfilling of mine head with classic lore,
Mine hands firm clasped upon my temples damp,
Methought I heard a tapping at the door;
'Come in,' I cried, with most unearthly rore,
Fearing a horrid Dun or Don to see,
Or Tomkins, that unmitigated bore,
Whom I love not, but who alas! loves me,
And cometh oft unbid and drinketh of my tea.
'Come in,' I rored; when suddenly there rose
A magick form before my dazzled eyes:
'Or do I wake,' I asked myself 'or doze'?
Or hath an angel come in mortal guise'?
So wondered I; but nothing mote surmise;
Only I gazed upon that lovely face,
In reverence yblent with mute surprise:
Sure never yet was seen such wondrous grace,
Since Adam first began to run his earthlie race.
Her hands were folded on her bosom meek;
Her sweet blue eyes were lifted t'ward the skie;
Her lips were parted, yet she did not speak;
Only at times she sighed, or seemed to sigh:
In all her 'haviour was there nought of shy;
Yet well I wis no Son of Earth would dare,
To look with love upon that lofty eye;
For in her beauty there was somewhat rare,
A something that repell'd an ordinary stare.
Then did she straight a snowycloth disclose
Of samite, which she placed upon a chair:
Then, smiling like a freshly-budding rose,
She gazed upon me with a witching air,
As mote a Cynic anchorite ensnare.
Eftsoons, as though her thoughts she could not smother,
She hasted thus her mission to declare: -
'Please, these is your clean things I've brought instead of brother,
'And if you'll pay the bill you'll much oblige my mother.'
(1860).