"Meet We No Angels, Pansie?" 549 Were given her for dowers, This is my lady's praise: Wrought her in unknown ways, This is my lady's birth; God gave her might and mirth. Under deep apple boughs All saying but what God saith To her is as vain breath; She is more strong than death, Being strong as love. Algernon Charles Swinburne [1837-1909] "MEET WE NO ANGELS, PANSIE?" CAME, on a Sabbath morn, my sweet, The grass grew proud beneath her feet, She said, "We meet no angels now"; What! meet no angels, Pansie? O sweet brown hat, brown hair, brown eyes, Thomas Ashe [1836-1889] TO DAPHNE LIKE apple-blossoms, white and red; Are Daphne's blushing cheeks, I swear. That pretty rose, which comes and goes I can command it when I choose- Oh, sweet! oh, fair! beyond compare, Are Daphne's blushing cheeks, I swear. Ah! when it lies round lips and eyes, Than still to cry, and still to sing: Are Daphne's blushing cheeks, I swear. The Daughter of Mendoza 'Tis by its curve, I know, Love fashioneth his bow, And bends it-ah, even so! Oh, girl of the red mouth, love me! Girl of the blue eye, Love me! Love me! Girl of the dew eye, Love me! Worlds hang for lamps on high; Oh, girl of the blue eye, love me! Girl of the swan's neck, Love me! Love me! Girl of the swan's neck, As a marble Greek doth grow To his steed's back of snow, Thy white neck sits thy shoulder so,- Girl of the low voice, Love me! Love me! Girl of the sweet voice, Love me! Like the echo of a bell, Like the bubbling of a well,— Sweeter! Love within doth dwell, 551 Oh, girl of the low voice, love me! THE DAUGHTER OF MENDOZA O LEND to me, sweet nightingale, And lend to me your cadences, That I may sing my gay brunette, The daughter of Mendoza. How brilliant is the morning star, Their softness and their splendor. O ever bright and beauteous one, And thine, is, too, o'er hill and dell, The bounding of the young gazelle, The arrow's flight and ocean's swell- What though, perchance, we no more meet,- Thy form will float like emerald light Before my vision ever. For who can see and then forget The glories of my gay brunette Thou art too bright a star to set, Sweet daughter of Mendoza! Mirabeau Bonaparte Lamar [1798-1859] "IF SHE BE MADE OF WHITE AND RED " IF she be made of white and red, "When First I Saw Her" If she be filled with love and scorn, If 'twixt her lips such words are born, Bid Love be still, nor ever speak, Lest he his own rejection seek. Herbert P. Horne [18 THE LOVER'S SONG LEND me thy fillet, Love! I would no longer see: Then might I pass her sunny face, Then might I hear her voice, nor guess Ah! banished so from stars and sun- If only she might dream me good And wise, and be my mate! Lend her thy fillet, Love! If there is hope for me at all, She must be blind like thee. Edward Rowland Sill [1841-1887] "WHEN FIRST I SAW HER" WHEN first I saw her, at the stroke By sleeping under them at night; By being lovelier than they. |