Teresa and Other Poems By James Rhoades |
 |
MY LADY
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
|
 | Teresa and Other Poems |  |
48
MY LADY
My lady is so fair and dear
That all my heart to her is given;
One word she whispered in mine ear,
And earth for me was changed to heaven.
That all my heart to her is given;
One word she whispered in mine ear,
And earth for me was changed to heaven.
Of her perfections I lack skill
Or form or semblance to portray;
By inward sweetness, when she will,
Over men's hearts she holdeth sway.
Or form or semblance to portray;
By inward sweetness, when she will,
Over men's hearts she holdeth sway.
Her hair's dark hue may not be said,
But when she lifts her brow to mine
Earth in so deep a dusk is laid
That all the stars of love do shine.
But when she lifts her brow to mine
Earth in so deep a dusk is laid
That all the stars of love do shine.
Like waters in a summer grove,
Her speech is musical and low;
Her eyes are fountains of pure love,
From whence the streams of honour flow.
Her speech is musical and low;
Her eyes are fountains of pure love,
From whence the streams of honour flow.
They praise her voice, they praise her songs;
Such gift to all men doth she dole:
They know not that to me belongs
The secret music of her soul.
Such gift to all men doth she dole:
They know not that to me belongs
The secret music of her soul.
Her mien so pure, her glance so bright,
The thoughts that in her bosom be,
Her hopes, her fears, from dawn to night
Are angel-choirs that sing to me.
The thoughts that in her bosom be,
Her hopes, her fears, from dawn to night
Are angel-choirs that sing to me.
| Teresa and Other Poems | |