Heart’s Demesne
LISTEN, bright lady, thy deep Pansie eyes
Made never answer when my eyes did pray,
Than with those quaintest looks of blank surprise.
But my lovelonging hath devised a way
To mock thy living image, from thy hair
To thy rose toes; and keep thee by alway.
My garden’s face is, oh! so maidly fair,
With limbs all tapering, and with hues all fresh;
Thine are the beauties all that flourish there.
Amaranth, fadeless, tells me of thy flesh.
Briar-rose knows thy cheek, the Pink thy pout,
Bunched kisses dangle from the Woodbine mesh.
I love to loll, when Daisy stars peep out,
And hear the music of my garden dell,
Hollyhock’s laughter and the Sunflower’s shout,—
And many whisper things I dare not tell.
John Gray.