The Sea-Captain's Wooing.

Put the crown of your love on my forehead,     Its sweet links clasped with a kiss,     And all the great monarchs of England     Never wore such a gem as this.     Give me your hand, little maiden,     That sceptre so pearly white,     And I'll envy not the kingliest wand     That ever waved in might.     I know 'tis like asking a morning cloud     With a grim old mountain to stay,     But your love would soften its ruggedness,     And melt its roughness away.     I have seen a delicate rosy cloud,     A rough, gray cliff enfold,     Till his heart was warmed by its loveliness,     And his brow was tinged with its gold.     Oh, poor and mean does my life show     Compared with the beauty of thine,     Like a diamond embedded in granite     Your life would be set in mine;     But a faithful love should guard you,     And shelter you from life's storm,     The rock must be shivered to atoms     Ere its treasure should come to harm.     How your sweet face has shone on me     From the tropics' midnight sea,     When the sailors slept, and I kept watch     Alone with my God and thee.     I know your heart is relenting,     The tender look in your eyes     Seems like that sky's soft splendor     When the sun was beginning to rise.     You need not veil their glorious light     With your eyelids' cloud of snow,     A tell-tale bird with a crimson wing     On your cheek flies to and fro;     And whispers to me such blissful hope     That my foolish tears will start,     Ah, little bird! your fluttering wing     Is folded on my heart.