 | Poems |  |
PRITHEE TELL ME WHERE LOVE DWELLS.
Prithee tell me where Love dwells!
'Neath a forehead whiter far
Than the whitest lilies are;
'Neath a drooping lash of silk
Blacker far than carven jet,
Drooping from a lid of milk
Veinèd deep with violet;
Find me these, and each one tells
Where the wildering urchin dwells.
'Neath a forehead whiter far
Than the whitest lilies are;
'Neath a drooping lash of silk
Blacker far than carven jet,
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Veinèd deep with violet;
Find me these, and each one tells
Where the wildering urchin dwells.
Yet still ask you where he's dwelling?
Where a brow is, purer than
The white bosom of the swan,
Rounded with a night more rare
Than was ever hung on high,
Sleeping round in braided hair
Brooding o'er a raven eye,
O'er an eye all eyes excelling;
Find me these, and there he's dwelling.
Where a brow is, purer than
The white bosom of the swan,
Rounded with a night more rare
Than was ever hung on high,
Sleeping round in braided hair
Brooding o'er a raven eye,
O'er an eye all eyes excelling;
Find me these, and there he's dwelling.
If one steal upon him there,
Tell me—tell me—shall I seize
Love, the troubler of mine ease?
Questioner, nay, I say not so,
And his will I read aright;
There his presence ne'er thou'lt know;
Never there he'll glad thy sight;
For but yesternight he sware,
Only I should find him there.
Tell me—tell me—shall I seize
Love, the troubler of mine ease?
Questioner, nay, I say not so,
And his will I read aright;
There his presence ne'er thou'lt know;
Never there he'll glad thy sight;
For but yesternight he sware,
Only I should find him there.
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