Lora Of The Vales

Lora is her name that slips Soft as love between the lips: You must know she is so wise All she does is lift her eyes,-- Larkspur-blue as April skies,-- At her name--and that replies-- She ’s so wise, is Lora.

Lora is her name whose sound Hedges all my heart around With the gold of happiness: When she speaks, you will confess, Music’s self her words express, Every vowel a caress-- She ’s so kind, is Lora.

Lora is her name that brings Thoughts to me of morning things: Songs of birds; of bees that creep In the rumpled bluebells deep; Butterflies, that, half asleep, On some rose their vigil keep-- She ’s so young, is Lora.

Lora, lean to mine your face; So; and round you let me lace One firm arm, and gently woo Your small mouth, as fresh as dew, Till it says your heart is true, True to me as mine to you, Sunny-hearted Lora!