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48

XXII.

With that soft bloom and dress of glossy green,
Thou'rt like some half-blown apple-blossom fair;
The bright and bashful beauties peeping there
Just make us wish a little more were seen;
Thine eyes two dew-drops, brilliant yet serene—
What frown o'ercasts the sunshine on thy face?
Is this a simile too common-place?
Well then, thou art the Fairies' beauteous Queen;
Yes, thou'rt Titania, as the Bard in glee
Has drawn her; pure, unearthly, as if fed
On flowers;—a pretty, conscious majesty
Around thy small and dainty form is shed:
O give thy love, I care not why, to me,
E'en though I gain it with the Ass's Head!