 | Collected poems |  |
429
THE NAMELESS CHARM
(Expanded from an Epigram of Piron)
Stella, 'tis not your dainty head,
Your artless look, I own;
'Tis not your dear coquettish tread,
Or this, or that, alone;
Your artless look, I own;
'Tis not your dear coquettish tread,
Or this, or that, alone;
Nor is it all your gifts combined;
'Tis something in your face,—
The untranslated, undefined,
Uncertainty of grace,
'Tis something in your face,—
The untranslated, undefined,
Uncertainty of grace,
That taught the Boy on Ida's hill
To whom the meed was due;
All three have equal charms—but still
This one I give it to!
To whom the meed was due;
All three have equal charms—but still
This one I give it to!
| Collected poems | |