 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
101
IMAGINATION.
Dread Monarch-maid, I see thee now before me,Searching my soul with those mysterious eyes,
Spell-bound I stand, thy presence stealing o'er me,
While all unnerved my trembling spirit dies:
Oh, what a world of untold wonder lies
Within thy quivering lips; how rare a light
Of conquered joys and ecstasies represt
Beneath thy dimpled cheek shines half-confest;
In what luxuriant masses, glossy-bright,
Those raven locks fall shadowing thy fair breast;
And lo, that bursting brow, with gorgeous wings,
And vague young forms of beauty coyly hiding
In thy crisp curls, like cherubs there abiding,—
Charmer, to thee my heart enamour'd springs!
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