Eyes of Brown and Blue

After our lengthy visit to Clarke County, it seems fitting to take a short break with some poetry, this time printed in the Staunton Spectator, 29 August 1894. The poem appears to have been written quite some time before it made its way to Staunton, with the earliest sighting found to date being in 1860 in the New York Saturday Press. 

Unfortunately, the author's name has been anonymized with very common initials and a plain last name, and we've been unable to track down this poem printed in another location to help us hone in on the complete name for more in-depth research. This means we've also been unable to find any other examples of this poet's work, so at the end of the day we'll have to consider this still a case of "author unknown" despite being signed.

Like our earlier Valentine stories, this poem should be out of copyright in the US, so the entire poem is reprinted here. Enjoy this glimpse of the 19th century!

EYES OF BROWN AND BLUE. 

Out of the room and into the gloom 

Died the music in tremulous sighs. 

Fled from the room and faded in gloom 

Were the murmurous tones of low replies. 

The laughing lips and cheeks in bloom, 

The mazy whirl of fair forms there, 

The measured beat of festive feet 

And flash of white arms bare--

All were gone, for the revel was through. 

But still it seemed my rapturous doom 

To be haunted by eyes of brown and blue. 

Blue of the sky that sparkles on high 

And expands o'er the meadows of May; 

Blue of the sky that canopies high 

The daisied mead of blossoming spray; 

Brown of the brook, the autumn brook, 

Upon whose waves the sere leaves look, 

Autumn brooks with a waveless flow. 

And scimitar flash of fins aglow. 

And golden dash of sands below

Such were the eyes of brown and blue 

That haunted me when the revel was through. 

In the luminous glare of the street light's stare 

That tinted my room with a ghostly gray. 

In the pallid glare in my chamber there. 

Still haunted by eyes, I drowsily lay. 

Awaiting the bark that would bear me away— 

The dream manned shallop of sleep 

That would bear me over the fathomless deep, 

With pinions light and a noiseless flight, 

To the land where hopes the brightest are born. 

Across the mystical ocean of night 

To the odorous realm of morn. 

Swinging adrift on a slumberous swell 

That lightly arose and laughingly fell, 

I seemed to float in a rudderless boat 

In glimmering view of a glittering shore 

Where the billows broke with a rhythmical roar 

With a musical plash and a murmurous dash 

Forever to float by a verdurous shore— 

Verdurous shore with a breath of balm 

And wealth of bloom and waving palm, 

Beneath whose shade I saw the hue 

Of eyes of brown and melting blue. 

When morning came with her rosy flame. 

And flashed on my curtains' trembling white; 

When morning came with her ruddy flame 

And shivered within her lances of light, 

I calmly arose from my couch of repose 

And dreamily gazed on the awakening sun; 

I musingly thought of the revel and dream 

And wondered if revel and dream were one. 

If the eyes were a myth and did only seem 

The eyes of brown and tender blue 

That haunted me thus the brief night through. 

A myth! Ah, no! for, ere the glow 

Of day had shimmered and gone, 

In the clearest of truth I looked upon 

Those eyes of azure and shadowy fawn. 

Oh, eyes of blue, of heaven's own hue. 

Retain forever your sparkling grace! 

Oh, eyes of blue, may never the dew 

Fall from your depths on a sorrowing face! 

And, liquid brown of the autumn brook, 

May a peaceful soul through your crystals look 

And clearly reflect for many a year 

All well loved forms and faces dear! 

And this, oh, eyes of brown and blue, 

Is all the revenge I crave of you 

For witching my slumbers the whole night through! 

E. M. Allen.

 

Colorized detail from "The last ball of the season," by Augustus Hoppin, from Harper's weekly, v. 2, no. 60 (1858 February 20), p. 120. Image courtesy of the Library of Congress.

Enjoy these posts?