Flower Pieces and other poems By William Allingham: With two designs by Dante Gabriel Rossetti |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
VENUS OF THE NEEDLE. |
Flower Pieces and other poems | ||
143
VENUS OF THE NEEDLE.
O Maryanne, you pretty girl,
Intent on silky labour,
Of semstresses the pink and pearl,
Excuse a peeping neighbour!
Intent on silky labour,
Of semstresses the pink and pearl,
Excuse a peeping neighbour!
Those eyes, for ever drooping, give
The long brown lashes rarely;
But violets in the shadows live,—
For once unveil them fairly.
The long brown lashes rarely;
But violets in the shadows live,—
For once unveil them fairly.
Hast thou not lent that flounce enough
Of looks so long and earnest?
Lo, here's more ‘penetrable stuff,’
To which thou never turnest.
Of looks so long and earnest?
Lo, here's more ‘penetrable stuff,’
To which thou never turnest.
Ye graceful fingers, deftly sped!
How slender, and how nimble!
O might I wind their skeins of thread,
Or but pick up their thimble!
How slender, and how nimble!
O might I wind their skeins of thread,
Or but pick up their thimble!
How blest the youth whom love shall bring,
And happy stars embolden,
To change the dome into a ring,
The silver into golden!
And happy stars embolden,
To change the dome into a ring,
The silver into golden!
Who'll steal some morning to her side
To take her finger's measure,
While Maryanne pretends to chide,
And blushes deep with pleasure.
To take her finger's measure,
While Maryanne pretends to chide,
And blushes deep with pleasure.
144
Who'll watch her sew her wedding-gown,
Well conscious that it is hers;
Who'll glean a tress, without a frown,
With those so ready scissors?
Well conscious that it is hers;
Who'll glean a tress, without a frown,
With those so ready scissors?
Who'll taste those ripenings of the south,
The fragrant and delicious—
Don't put the pins into your mouth,
O Maryanne, my precious!
The fragrant and delicious—
Don't put the pins into your mouth,
O Maryanne, my precious!
I almost wish it were my trust
To teach how shocking that is;
I wish I had not, as I must,
To quit this tempting lattice.
To teach how shocking that is;
I wish I had not, as I must,
To quit this tempting lattice.
Sure aim takes Cupid, fluttering foe,
Across a street so narrow;
A silken thread to string his bow,
A needle for his arrow!
Across a street so narrow;
A silken thread to string his bow,
A needle for his arrow!
Flower Pieces and other poems | ||