 | Poems |  |
68
TO OLIVIA.
When thy fair eyes upon me dwell,
A fever racks me, heart and brain;
I win the light I love too well,
I sit in torture with my gain!
A fever racks me, heart and brain;
I win the light I love too well,
I sit in torture with my gain!
When thy fair eyes are turn'd away,
Meek as the blind, my hands I cross;
I lose a light more dear than day,
I sit in stillness with my loss!
Meek as the blind, my hands I cross;
I lose a light more dear than day,
I sit in stillness with my loss!
When thy fair eyes are closed, I find
In their eclipse both loss and gain:
Open, they look so sweetly kind,
Closed, they inflict no cruel pain!
In their eclipse both loss and gain:
Open, they look so sweetly kind,
Closed, they inflict no cruel pain!
| Poems | |