Poems, partly of rural life, (in national English.) By William Barnes |
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| XXIII. | SONNET XXIII. TO AMANDA. |
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 | Poems, partly of rural life, (in national English.) |  |
116
SONNET XXIII. TO AMANDA.
As some wild bird from bough to bough is flitting,
When man is roaming in her still retreat,
So timidly didst thou forsake thy seat
When once I sought the room where thou wert sitting:
And thou, it may be, shewedst me, in quitting
The place I came to with unwelcome feet,
Thou wouldst not wound my heart, unless 'twere fitting
To bless me with the charms for which it beat.
When man is roaming in her still retreat,
So timidly didst thou forsake thy seat
When once I sought the room where thou wert sitting:
And thou, it may be, shewedst me, in quitting
The place I came to with unwelcome feet,
Thou wouldst not wound my heart, unless 'twere fitting
To bless me with the charms for which it beat.
Away! thou heart-insnaring one, I know
The stealthy hunter may desire to hide
His weapons from the victim he would kill.
The stealthy hunter may desire to hide
His weapons from the victim he would kill.
But thou, in shunning, slewest me; for though
Thy lovely face, indeed, was turn'd aside,
Thy graceful shape and air could wound me still.
Thy lovely face, indeed, was turn'd aside,
Thy graceful shape and air could wound me still.
| Poems, partly of rural life, (in national English.) | |