Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood | ||
LXXXVI. WOULD YOU WOO A LADY FAIR.
Would you woo a lady fair,
Woo her like the knights of old;
Love was then an ardent prayer,
Now 'tis but a question bold.
Woo her like the knights of old;
Love was then an ardent prayer,
Now 'tis but a question bold.
Then the boy on battle-field
Won his spurs and wore a name
Ere his lady grace would yield,
Ere her smile he dared to claim.
Won his spurs and wore a name
Ere his lady grace would yield,
Ere her smile he dared to claim.
Not till glory crown'd his brow,
Not till Fame before him went,
Came he, with impassion'd vow,
With his knee to Beauty bent.
Not till Fame before him went,
Came he, with impassion'd vow,
With his knee to Beauty bent.
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Those chivalric days are o'er,
Yet there's still a glorious field;
Lovers, to the list once more!
Here are arms you yet may wield.
Yet there's still a glorious field;
Lovers, to the list once more!
Here are arms you yet may wield.
Fancy's fiery coursers reign,
Trappings gay and golden bit,
Wheel them to the charge amain,
Couch the glittering lance of wit.
Trappings gay and golden bit,
Wheel them to the charge amain,
Couch the glittering lance of wit.
Hope, the herald, cries, “Good speed!”
Love's light pennon floats on high,
Beauty's smile your dearest meed;
Sound the trump! to combat fly!
Love's light pennon floats on high,
Beauty's smile your dearest meed;
Sound the trump! to combat fly!
Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood | ||