 | English Roses |  |
PULCHRIORI DETUR.
To thee, more a ravishing and fair
Than other forms superbly sweet,
Unborn as yet, or with a chair
For babies meet!
I bring this garland for thy hair
Which fancy now from far doth greet,
And lily bells of price to pair
Thy flower-like feet.
Than other forms superbly sweet,
Unborn as yet, or with a chair
For babies meet!
I bring this garland for thy hair
Which fancy now from far doth greet,
And lily bells of price to pair
Thy flower-like feet.
What matters it that this poor hand
Shall never rest and glow in thine,
Nor I a willing servant stand
Within the shrine?
Thy beauty still lights the whole land
For me, and maketh nature mine;
And all I am, at thy command,
Becomes divine.
Shall never rest and glow in thine,
Nor I a willing servant stand
Within the shrine?
Thy beauty still lights the whole land
For me, and maketh nature mine;
And all I am, at thy command,
Becomes divine.
I see thee now, with prophet look
Which is no idle gleam or guess,
Nor picture from a story book,
In white undress.
Thy voice is like a babbling brook,
A-rippling through a wilderness;
Which from it takes, and ever took,
Its loveliness.
Which is no idle gleam or guess,
Nor picture from a story book,
In white undress.
Thy voice is like a babbling brook,
A-rippling through a wilderness;
Which from it takes, and ever took,
Its loveliness.
| English Roses | |