 | A lover's diary |  |
29
MONA, PERFECT.
Her language is so sweet and fit
You never have enough of it.
If she smiles, the house is bright
Without any candle-light.
You never have enough of it.
If she smiles, the house is bright
Without any candle-light.
Whether that her hair is rolled
Round an ivory comb, or gold,
Pinned or no, I cannot tell,
In itself it shines so well.
Round an ivory comb, or gold,
Pinned or no, I cannot tell,
In itself it shines so well.
Whether she doth wear her coat
Loose, or buttoned to the throat,
Hems or ruffles, plain or gay,
Seems to me the sweetest way.
Loose, or buttoned to the throat,
Hems or ruffles, plain or gay,
Seems to me the sweetest way.
30
She 's so pitiful to all,
Sighs, as if by chance, do fall,
Daily, in her childlike prayers,
Getting heavenward unawares.
Sighs, as if by chance, do fall,
Daily, in her childlike prayers,
Getting heavenward unawares.
Every little word she speaks
Sends the color to her cheeks,
Rippling high and rippling low
Over bosom, over brow;
Sends the color to her cheeks,
Rippling high and rippling low
Over bosom, over brow;
So, if stripped of dress and veil,
Like Godiva in the tale,
Modesty with blushes sweet
Would clothe her all from head to feet.
Like Godiva in the tale,
Modesty with blushes sweet
Would clothe her all from head to feet.
By her innocence she awes
Evil from her; through love's laws,
That so bind us like a cord,
Each to all, she seeks the Lord.
Evil from her; through love's laws,
That so bind us like a cord,
Each to all, she seeks the Lord.
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