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113
SIMPLICITY.
I wish'd to make my Love a gift of something soft and simple,
For softness and simplicity lurk in her every dimple;
And Cupid whisper'd me, that she would that the best prefer,
Which did in worth and nature most assimilate with her.
For softness and simplicity lurk in her every dimple;
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Which did in worth and nature most assimilate with her.
At first, I thought of violets a rustic couch I'd make her,
Whereon to rest her ivory limbs, when sleep might overtake her;
But Love sung, ‘Foolish youth, beware! for when on them she lies,
The flowers will die with envying her azure veins and eyes.’
Whereon to rest her ivory limbs, when sleep might overtake her;
But Love sung, ‘Foolish youth, beware! for when on them she lies,
The flowers will die with envying her azure veins and eyes.’
Then glow-worms I resolv'd to catch, to light her in the night;
But Love exclaim'd, ‘They will not shine before her eyes so bright!’
‘Well, then,’ quoth I, ‘I'll lilies pluck, to ornament her vest;’
Cried Love, ‘Her whiter bosom, youth, will ornament it best.’
But Love exclaim'd, ‘They will not shine before her eyes so bright!’
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Cried Love, ‘Her whiter bosom, youth, will ornament it best.’
‘A band of roses, then, I'll twine, to grace her forehead fair;’
Said Love, ‘No band can grace it like her band of golden hair.’
‘What shall I give her, then?’ I sigh'd. Quoth Love, ‘You foolish elf,
You can give the maid no gift so soft and simple as yourself!’
Said Love, ‘No band can grace it like her band of golden hair.’
‘What shall I give her, then?’ I sigh'd. Quoth Love, ‘You foolish elf,
You can give the maid no gift so soft and simple as yourself!’
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