 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
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1
Slanting both hands against her foreheadOn me she levelled her bright eyes:
My whole heart brightened as the sea
When midnight clouds part suddenly;
Through all my spirit went the lustre,
Like starlight poured through purple skies.
2
And then she sang a loud, sweet music,Yet louder as aloft it clomb;
Soft when her curving lips it left;
Then rising till the heavens were cleft,
As though each strain, on high expanding,
Were echoed in a silver dome.
3
But, ah! she sings ‘she does not love me:’She loves to say she ne'er can love:
To me her beauty she denies,
Bending the while on me those eyes
Whose beams might charm the mountain leopard,
Or lure Jove's herald from above!
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |