A Book of old English love songs . Whereer she lie, Lockd up from mortal eye In shady leaves of destiny: Till that ripe birth Of studied Fate stand forth, And teach her fair steps tread our earth ; Till that divine Idea take a shrine Of crystal flesh, through which to shine [122]. OTtyoeer tyt be — Meet you her, my Wishes, Bespeak her to my blisses, And be ye calld, my absent kisses. I wish her beautyThat owes not all its dutyTo gaudy tire, or glistring shoe-tie Something more thanTaffata or tissue can,Or rampant feather, or rich fan. A face thats best By its own beauty drest, And can alone co
A Book of old English love songs . Whereer she lie, Lockd up from mortal eye In shady leaves of destiny: Till that ripe birth Of studied Fate stand forth, And teach her fair steps tread our earth ; Till that divine Idea take a shrine Of crystal flesh, through which to shine [122]. OTtyoeer tyt be — Meet you her, my Wishes, Bespeak her to my blisses, And be ye calld, my absent kisses. I wish her beautyThat owes not all its dutyTo gaudy tire, or glistring shoe-tie Something more thanTaffata or tissue can,Or rampant feather, or rich fan. A face thats best By its own beauty drest, And can alone commend the rest: A face made up Out of no other shop Than what Natures white hand sets ope. Sydnaean showersOf sweet discourse, whose powersCan crown old Winters head with flowers.[«3.] Jtt sfyt be Whateer delight Can make days forehead bright Or give down to the wings of night. Soft silken hours, Open suns, shady bowers; Bove all, nothing within that lowers. Days, that need borrow No part of their good morrow From a fore-spent night of sorrow: Days, that in spite Of darkness, by the light Of a clear mind are day all night. Life, that dares send A challenge to his end, And when it comes, say, Welcome, friend. I wish her store Of worth may leave her poor Of wishes; and I
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookpublishernewyo, bookyear1897
