The Home Book of Verse Volume Ii Part 22

My wonderment these twain invite, Their comeliness it is divine; And yet I say in their despite, No lady is so fair as mine.

Dame Helen caused a grievous fray, For love of her brave men did fight, The eyes of her made sages fey And put their hearts in woeful plight.

To her no rhymes will I indite, For her no garlands will I twine; Though she be made of flowers and light, No lady is so fair as mine.

L'ENVOI Prince Eros, Lord of lovely might, Who on Olympus doth recline, Do I not tell the truth aright?

No lady is so fair as mine.

Joyce Kilmer [1886-1918]

URSULA

I see her in the festal warmth to-night, Her rest all grace, her motion all delight.

Endowed with all the woman's arts that please, In her soft gown she seems a thing of ease, Whom sorrow may not reach or evil blight.

To-morrow she will toil from floor to floor To smile upon the unreplying poor, To stay the tears of widows, and to be Confessor to men's erring hearts... ah me!

She knows not I am beggar at her door.

Robert Underwood Johnson [1853-

VILLANELLE OF HIS LADY'S TREASURES

I took her dainty eyes, as well As silken tendrils of her hair: And so I made a Villanelle!

I took her voice, a silver bell, As clear as song, as soft as prayer; I took her dainty eyes as well.

It may be, said I, who can tell, These things shall be my less despair?

And so I made a Villanelle!

I took her whiteness virginal And from her cheeks two roses rare: I took her dainty eyes as well.

I said: "It may be possible Her image from my heart to tear!"

And so I made a Villanelle!

I stole her laugh, most musical: I wrought it in with artful care; I took her dainty eyes as well; And so I made a Villanelle.

Ernest Dowson [1867-1900]

SONG

Love, by that loosened hair Well now I know Where the lost Lilith went So long ago.

Love, by those starry eyes I understand How the sea maidens lure Mortals from land.

Love, by that welling laugh Joy claims his own Sea-born and wind-wayward Child of the sun.

Bliss Carman [1861-1929]

SONG

O, like a queen's her happy tread, And like a queen's her golden head!

But O, at last, when all is said, Her woman's heart for me!

We wandered where the river gleamed 'Neath oaks that mused and pines that dreamed, A wild thing of the woods she seemed, So proud, and pure, and free!

All heaven drew nigh to hear her sing, When from her lips her soul took wing; The oaks forgot their pondering, The pines their reverie.

And O, her happy, queenly tread, And O, her queenly golden head!

But O, her heart, when all is said, Her woman's heart for me!

William Watson [1858-1935]

ANY LOVER, ANY La.s.s

Why are her eyes so bright, so bright, Why do her lips control The kisses of a summer night, When I would love her soul?

G.o.d set her brave eyes wide apart And painted them with fire; They stir the ashes of my heart To embers of desire.

Her lips so tenderly are wrought In so divine a shape, That I am servant to my thought And can no wise escape.

Her body is a flower, her hair About her neck doth play; I find her colors everywhere, They are the pride of day.

Her little hands are soft, and when I see her fingers move I know in very truth that men Have died for less than love.

Ah, dear, live, lovely thing! my eyes Have sought her like a prayer; It is my better self that cries "Would she were not so fair!"

Would I might forfeit ecstasy And find a calmer place, Where I might undesirous see Her too desired face:

Nor find her eyes so bright, so bright, Nor hear her lips unroll Dream after dream the lifelong night, When I would love her soul.

Richard Middleton [1882-1911]