Cofachiqui, and Other Poems/A valentine

A VALENTINE.

LET it not, dear girl, offend thee
That a tale of love I send thee
On the white wings of this fleeting
Missive in the lieu of meeting;
For thou knowest whose this day is
And the saint who they do say is
The blind archer's coadjutor
In the cause of suit or suitor,
And what custom folly covers
Of green youths and tongue-tied lovers.

"Yet who's this," perhaps thou 'lt query,
"Who my patience seeks to weary?"
One who's sojourned long 'mid strangers,
Sojourned too 'mid toils and dangers.
All the world are strangers to me,
Save a few, all think me gloomy,
Cold and distant, all unwitting
Of life's forms around me flitting.

When the Northmen trod the sandy
Banks of turbid Rio Grande
And despairing Santa Ana
Saw the banner Mexicana
Quail before their battle-chorus,
Wounded left in Matamoros
Was a brave Americano.
Nursed him then the tender mano
Of a Mexic señorita;
And he in his convalescence
Won the heart of Juanita
And her father's acquiescence—
Won the proud creole's daughter;
To his northern home he brought her—
Left the yellow Rio Grande,
Banks mesquit'-fringed, low and sandy,
Came to where Wisconsin's hills
Feed Mis'sippi with their rills,
Mirrored on her bright breast lie,
O'er them spread the dark-blue sky.
There they dwelt till life was ended—
Well their diverse natures blended.
Full of strange, opposed sensations
Was their child, born of two nations;
And it seemed two natures ever
In him strove and could not sever.
Cool the steady Saxon current,
Quick and hot the Spanish torrent.
Like the rushing, boiling fountains
In the snow-capped Madre mountains,
On to love and hate was urging
That hot blood within him surging;
But a coldness stern and passive
As the sierra's summits massive,
Shrouding all the surface ever,
Hid that heat but chilled it never.

Thus together strive and mingle
Spirits twain in my life single.
In the northland I remember
'Neath the low sun of December
That the deep and rapid river
Flowed as deep and swift as ever
Though 't was hid by ice above it
Hard and cold as skaters love it
When they skim like wingéd swallows
Faster than the north wind follows,
While beneath the current flowing
Deep and hidden, little knowing,
Little recking, little heeding
Of the forms above it speeding.
Thus my tide of feelings surging,
Unseen forces onward urging;
Deep and dark as mountain torrent,
But yet silent is their current.

But a time there cometh ever,
It has failed or will fail never,
When the ice is all liquescent
And dark forests are frondescent
'Neath the touch of the enchanting,
Silent sunbeams, downward slanting;
And the charm the while enhances
As th' enchanter north advances.

Oh! thou couldst by thy enchanting
Presence banish all my haunting
Winter, and thy smile endearing
Would be like the summer cheering—
Like the sun the tropic nearing.
Though not void of high ambition,
Yet my highest hope's fruition
Would be that thy light might ever
Cheer me in life's each endeavor,
Dawning now while February
Nights are with you spreading fairy
Bowers on windows, jewels sparkling
Like the stars at night's cold darkling,
In the springtime growing stronger,
As the days grow brighter, longer,
Stronger still when summer's present
And June roses are florescent,
Knowing thence no night's cessation,
Winter's trope or aberration
Till earthly scenes change to supernal
Where joy and love are both eternal.