London lyrics by Frederick Locker Lampson: With introduction and notes by Austin Dobson |
 |
ON “A PORTRAIT OF A LADY”
|
 | London lyrics |  |
131
ON “A PORTRAIT OF A LADY”
BY THE PAINTER
She is good, for she must have a guileless mind
With that noble, trusting air;
A rose with a passionate heart is twined
In her crown of golden hair.
Some envy the cross that bewitchingly dips
To her bosom, and some have sighed
For the promise of May on her red, red lips,
And her thousand charms beside.
With that noble, trusting air;
A rose with a passionate heart is twined
In her crown of golden hair.
Some envy the cross that bewitchingly dips
To her bosom, and some have sighed
For the promise of May on her red, red lips,
And her thousand charms beside.
She is lovely and good; she has frank blue eyes;
A haunting shape. She stands
In a blossoming croft, under kindling skies,—
The weirdest of faery lands;
There are sapphire hills by the far-off seas,—
Grave laurels, and tender limes;
They tremble and glow in the morning breeze,—
My Beauty is up betimes.
A haunting shape. She stands
In a blossoming croft, under kindling skies,—
The weirdest of faery lands;
There are sapphire hills by the far-off seas,—
Grave laurels, and tender limes;
132
My Beauty is up betimes.
A bevy of idlers press around,
To wonder, and wish, and loll;
“Now who is the painter, and where has he found
This Woman we all extol,
With her wistful mouth, and her candid brow,
And a bloom as of bygone days?”—
How natural sounds their worship, how
Impertinent seems their praise!
To wonder, and wish, and loll;
“Now who is the painter, and where has he found
This Woman we all extol,
With her wistful mouth, and her candid brow,
And a bloom as of bygone days?”—
How natural sounds their worship, how
Impertinent seems their praise!
I stand aloof; I can well afford
To pardon the babble and crush
As they praise a work (do I need reward?)
That has grown beneath my brush:
Aloof—and in fancy again I hear
The music rise and fall,
As they crown her Queen of their dance and cheer,
She is mine, and Queen of All!
To pardon the babble and crush
As they praise a work (do I need reward?)
That has grown beneath my brush:
Aloof—and in fancy again I hear
The music rise and fall,
As they crown her Queen of their dance and cheer,
She is mine, and Queen of All!
133
My thoughts are away to that happy day,
A few short months agone,
When we left the games, and the dance, to stray
Through the shadowy croft, alone.
My feet are again where the daisies shine,
Away from the noise and glare,
When I kiss'd her mouth, and her cheek press'd mine,
And I fasten'd that rose in her hair.
A few short months agone,
When we left the games, and the dance, to stray
Through the shadowy croft, alone.
My feet are again where the daisies shine,
Away from the noise and glare,
When I kiss'd her mouth, and her cheek press'd mine,
And I fasten'd that rose in her hair.
1868.
| London lyrics | |