Blue of Smoke
Her dreamy eyes are of the blue of smoke,
That softly, frond by frond and gyre by gyre,
O'er some thatched bothy, in a Highland glen,
Unfurls at gloaming from an ingle fire,
Whose hearth-stone is love's altar,—blue of smoke
Ascending, blending in blue heaven away,—
Blue of the fragrant smoke of vestal flame
That in her virgin heart burns night and day.
That softly, frond by frond and gyre by gyre,
O'er some thatched bothy, in a Highland glen,
Unfurls at gloaming from an ingle fire,
Whose hearth-stone is love's altar,—blue of smoke
Ascending, blending in blue heaven away,—
Blue of the fragrant smoke of vestal flame
That in her virgin heart burns night and day.
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