 | The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley |  |
XI
Sweet, thou art gone and I must write a word
To tell how I have loved thee, and how clear
The memory of thy presence shall record
Thy dearest eyes thro' many a lapsing year,
To tell how I have loved thee, and how clear
The memory of thy presence shall record
Thy dearest eyes thro' many a lapsing year,
The sweetest face that ever maiden wore,
The kind true heart, the nameless sympathy,
Perfect of flaw rich youth in all its store—
Dear little thing, I love thee fixedly.
The kind true heart, the nameless sympathy,
Perfect of flaw rich youth in all its store—
Dear little thing, I love thee fixedly.
Fair little form, how precious every fold
Of thy grey dress: each glancing shade how sweet
Of movement, from the ringlet-woof of gold
To those dear steps and tiny-printed feet.
Of thy grey dress: each glancing shade how sweet
Of movement, from the ringlet-woof of gold
To those dear steps and tiny-printed feet.
Ah, Love, I love thee so, yet my weak praise
Thinks with full heart, but speaks in old love-lays.
Thinks with full heart, but speaks in old love-lays.
| The Collected Poems of Lord De Tabley | |