 | On Viol and Flute |  |
39
FLOWER OF THE MARIGOLD.
Faint amorist, make haste to go
And take your humble violets hence,
Or else my Lady's eyes will show
They move not her magnificence;
The man must bring a bolder flower
Who fain would be her paramour.
And take your humble violets hence,
Or else my Lady's eyes will show
They move not her magnificence;
The man must bring a bolder flower
Who fain would be her paramour.
She stands up stately, like a palm
That breathes the warmth of tropic air;
Her looks are fixed in such a calm
As vast Egyptian statues wear;
The very motion of her hands
Is redolent of antique lands.
That breathes the warmth of tropic air;
Her looks are fixed in such a calm
As vast Egyptian statues wear;
The very motion of her hands
Is redolent of antique lands.
And I have found the flower she loves,
Whose burning leaves shut in the sun;
All day to watch his path it moves,
And dreams of him when day is done,
And when my passionate tale I told,
I wooed her with a marigold!
Whose burning leaves shut in the sun;
All day to watch his path it moves,
And dreams of him when day is done,
And when my passionate tale I told,
I wooed her with a marigold!
| On Viol and Flute | |