Poems | ||
THE REPLY.
Oh, look not in thy mirror, sweet,
For if thou, love, but see
The glory of thy beauty, love,
Wilt thou not turn from me?
Wilt thou not proudly spurn me off
And keep those charms of thine
For a wealthier state—a prouder birth,
A lordlier name than mine?
For if thou, love, but see
The glory of thy beauty, love,
Wilt thou not turn from me?
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And keep those charms of thine
For a wealthier state—a prouder birth,
A lordlier name than mine?
I'll look into my mirror, love,
I'll look in hope to see
A face as sweet—a form as fair
As may be worthy thee;
I'll woo my shining mirror, love,
To show me charms are mine
That shall not be scorned acceptance
By that true, true heart of thine.
I'll look in hope to see
A face as sweet—a form as fair
As may be worthy thee;
I'll woo my shining mirror, love,
To show me charms are mine
That shall not be scorned acceptance
By that true, true heart of thine.
Poems | ||