 | Song in September |  |
46
TO A SNOWDROP
Wert thou as warm as thou art white,
Then would'st thou seem the perfect friend
For me to gather ere the night
Invokes her dewiness, and send
To her upon whose bosom's swell
The sisters, Warmth and Whiteness, dwell.
Then would'st thou seem the perfect friend
For me to gather ere the night
Invokes her dewiness, and send
To her upon whose bosom's swell
The sisters, Warmth and Whiteness, dwell.
But it were sacrilege to give
A gift less radiant than the place
Where beds of breathing snowdrops live
And wonder how my exiled face
Endures so long to lose the sight
Of them, and lilies just as white.
A gift less radiant than the place
Where beds of breathing snowdrops live
And wonder how my exiled face
Endures so long to lose the sight
Of them, and lilies just as white.
| Song in September | |