Her Cold Gray Eye

Dianna’s form doth not compare

     With hers, my stately queen;

The blooms ne’er blushed so ripe and fair

     As he soft cheeks, I ween.

The winds ne’er kissed such wings of brown

     As on her forehead lie;

But somehow I cannot live down

     Her cold gray eye.

And Patti’s voice has never stirred

     My heart as hers has done;

And yet, I’ve never said the word

     For reasons only one.

I’d brave the storms of land and sea, –

     For love methinks I’d die;

But one thing wholly masters me:

     Her cold gray eye.

April 4, ‘93
Pub. in “Truth”,
Aug. 26, 1893
#332