 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
199
TO A COLD BEAUTY.
Thou art formed in woman's fashion,
And dost play her social part;
But without one pulse of passion,
And without a woman's heart.
And dost play her social part;
But without one pulse of passion,
And without a woman's heart.
Thou hast eyes that sweetly soften,
But from languor not from love;
Thou hast pretty feelings often,
But which fit thee like thy glove.
But from languor not from love;
Thou hast pretty feelings often,
But which fit thee like thy glove.
Thou hast lips that curl and tremble,
Swayed as finely as a fan;
Coldness while thou dost dissemble,
Warmth is lavished on a plan.
Swayed as finely as a fan;
Coldness while thou dost dissemble,
Warmth is lavished on a plan.
Thou hast hands that match thy dresses,
White and delicate and fair;
But the clasp of their caresses,
Is as false as is thy hair.
White and delicate and fair;
But the clasp of their caresses,
Is as false as is thy hair.
Thou hast dainty feet, that follow
Victims of thy amorous art;
Feet as fickle as the swallow,
That would trample on the heart.
Victims of thy amorous art;
Feet as fickle as the swallow,
That would trample on the heart.
Thou hast glances, that are treasured
By each frantic dupe and fool;
But thy every look is measured,
Like a lesson learnt at school.
By each frantic dupe and fool;
But thy every look is measured,
Like a lesson learnt at school.
Thou hast words, which he who misses
Deems his is a bitter fate;
Though they fall as soft as kisses,
They are crueller than hate.
Deems his is a bitter fate;
Though they fall as soft as kisses,
They are crueller than hate.
Thou hast ways that conquer blindness,
Melting even a heart of steel;
But thou dost in all thy kindness,
Feign a part thou dost not feel.
Melting even a heart of steel;
But thou dost in all thy kindness,
Feign a part thou dost not feel.
Thou hast artless arts, for buying
Golden praise at little cost;
But the name of them is lying,
And their nature is but frost.
Golden praise at little cost;
But the name of them is lying,
And their nature is but frost.
Thou hast mercies duly meted,
And thy breast at seasons burns;
But thy petty soul is heated,
Just to suit its petty turns.
And thy breast at seasons burns;
But thy petty soul is heated,
Just to suit its petty turns.
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Thou hast pity's every fashion,
And thy voice the tenderest ring;
Every feature of compassion,
Thou hast richly, save the thing.
And thy voice the tenderest ring;
Every feature of compassion,
Thou hast richly, save the thing.
All thy virtues are but borrowed,
All thy vices are thy own;
Thou hast never truly sorrowed,
And thy bosom is a stone.
All thy vices are thy own;
Thou hast never truly sorrowed,
And thy bosom is a stone.
Sentiments are thine and reasons,
Neatly on the surface set;
Labelled for appropriate seasons,
Like a plot of mignonette.
Neatly on the surface set;
Labelled for appropriate seasons,
Like a plot of mignonette.
But thou art not touched by troubles,
If they only fall on friends;
Nothing moves thee more than bubbles,
If it suits no private ends.
If they only fall on friends;
Nothing moves thee more than bubbles,
If it suits no private ends.
On thy cheek no colour kindles,
Like the sunrise on the hills;
When the day of others dwindles,
Not one throb thy being thrills.
Like the sunrise on the hills;
When the day of others dwindles,
Not one throb thy being thrills.
But in youth's wild course remember,
Every triumph has its term;
June is followed by December,
And the roses by the worm.
Every triumph has its term;
June is followed by December,
And the roses by the worm.
And the charms that thou dost cherish,
Never dimmed by care or grief;
Will too quickly pass and perish,
Fading like an autumn leaf.
Never dimmed by care or grief;
Will too quickly pass and perish,
Fading like an autumn leaf.
Then the suitors who have girt thee,
Given thee many a crown and throne,
One by one will soon desert thee,
All unhonoured and alone.
Given thee many a crown and throne,
One by one will soon desert thee,
All unhonoured and alone.
Then be sure, when thou dost languish
In the evil hour of dearth;
Those will only harvest anguish,
Who trust beauty more than worth.
In the evil hour of dearth;
Those will only harvest anguish,
Who trust beauty more than worth.
When the days are dark and showery,
Thou shalt never, never know,
What are fields for ever flowery,
What are springs that ever flow.
Thou shalt never, never know,
What are fields for ever flowery,
What are springs that ever flow.
When comes trouble's fiery onset,
Hatred, shame, and scorn of men;
When thy life is at its sunset,
Think of this and tremble then.
Hatred, shame, and scorn of men;
When thy life is at its sunset,
Think of this and tremble then.
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Thou shalt only wed affliction,
And despair shall be thy lord;
And the curse of malediction,
Shall pursue thee like a sword.
And despair shall be thy lord;
And the curse of malediction,
Shall pursue thee like a sword.
Go, thou thing of paint and powder,
False and rotten to the core;
Let them blow thy trumpet louder,
It will only damn thee more.
False and rotten to the core;
Let them blow thy trumpet louder,
It will only damn thee more.
Go, reject a hundred lovers,
Weaving pleasure from their pain;
Till thy heart at length discovers
Love, that meets no love again.
Weaving pleasure from their pain;
Till thy heart at length discovers
Love, that meets no love again.
Go, while life may yet be pleasant,
Ere the blossom's pride is shed;
Fashion from the foolish present,
The dark future's bitter bed.
Ere the blossom's pride is shed;
Fashion from the foolish present,
The dark future's bitter bed.
Go, to ripeness that is rotten,
With the tinsel of thy rank;
Soon thy fame will be forgotten,
Leaving nothing but a blank.
With the tinsel of thy rank;
Soon thy fame will be forgotten,
Leaving nothing but a blank.
Go, to meet the darkening seasons,
With no promise on their brow;
To the ruin without reasons,
Which is gathering round thee now.
With no promise on their brow;
To the ruin without reasons,
Which is gathering round thee now.
Go, from sorrow unto sorrow,
Cheered by no relenting ray;
Let a bitterer to-morrow,
Wait upon each bitter day.
Cheered by no relenting ray;
Let a bitterer to-morrow,
Wait upon each bitter day.
Go, with dancing and with laughter,
In the glory of thy bloom,
To the sorrowful hereafter,
With its fiery door of doom.
In the glory of thy bloom,
To the sorrowful hereafter,
With its fiery door of doom.
Go, till every trace is faded
Of thy conquering beauty's part;
Till each hope and joy is faded,
And the worm is at thy heart.
Of thy conquering beauty's part;
Till each hope and joy is faded,
And the worm is at thy heart.
Go, to suffering and to sighing,
That no moment's respite give;
Live, when thou dost pray for dying,
Die, when thou dost pray to live.
That no moment's respite give;
Live, when thou dost pray for dying,
Die, when thou dost pray to live.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |