Like him the sprite

Whom maids by night

Oft meet in glen that's haunted.
Like him, too, Beauty won me;
But when the spell was on me,
If once their ray

Was turned away,

O! winds could not outrun me.

And are those follies going?
And is my proud heart growing
Too cold or wise

For brilliant eyes

Again to set it glowing?
No-vain, alas! th' endeavor
From bonds so sweet to sever;-

Poor Wisdom's chance

Against a glance

Is now as weak as ever.

Thomas Moore [1779-1852]

DEAR FANNY

"SHE has beauty, but you must keep your heart cool;

She has wit, but you mustn't be caught so":

Thus Reason advises, but Reason's a fool,

And 'tis not the first time I have thought so,

Dear Fanny,

'Tis not the first time I have thought so.

"She is lovely; then love her, nor let the bliss fly; 'Tis the charm of youth's vanishing season"; Thus Love has advised me, and who will deny That Love reasons better than Reason,

Dear Fanny

Love reasons much better than Reason.

Thomas Moore [1779-1852]

A Certain Young Lady

705

A CERTAIN YOUNG LADY

THERE'S a certain young lady,
Who's just in her hey-day,

And full of all mischief, I ween;

So teasing! so pleasing!
Capricious! delicious!

And you know very well whom I mean.

With an eye dark as night,

Yet than noonday more bright,
Was ever a black eye so keen?

It can thrill with a glance,
With a beam can entrance,

And you know very well whom I mean.

With a stately step-such as

You'd expect in a duchess

And a brow might distinguish a queen,
With a mighty proud air,

That says "touch me who dare,"

And you know very well whom I mean.

With a toss of the head

That strikes one quite dead,

But a smile to revive one again;

That toss so appalling!

That smile so enthralling!

And you know very well whom I mean.

Confound her! de 'il take her!

A cruel heart-breaker

But hold! see that smile so serene,

God love her! God bless her!

May nothing distress her!

You know very well whom I mean.

Heaven help the adorer

Who happens to bore her,

WHERE be you going, you Devon maid?
And what have ye there in the basket?
Ye tight little fairy, just fresh from the dairy,
Will ye give me some cream if I ask it?

I love your hills and I love your dales,
And I love your flocks a-bleating;
But oh, on the heather to lie together,
With both our hearts a-beating!

I'll put your basket all safe in a nook;
Your shawl I'll hang on a willow;
And we will sigh in the daisy's eye,
And kiss on a grass-green pillow.

John Keats [1795-1821]

LOVE IN A COTTAGE

THEY may talk of love in a cottage,
And bowers of trellised vine,—
Of nature bewitchingly simple,
And milkmaids half divine;

They may talk of the pleasure of sleeping
In the shade of a spreading tree,
And a walk in the fields at morning,
By the side of a footstep free!

But give me a sly flirtation

By the light of a chandelier,-
With music to play in the pauses,

And nobody very near;

Song of the Milkmaid

Or a seat on a silken sofa,

With a glass of pure old wine, And mamma too blind to discover The small white hand in mine.

Your love in a cottage is hungry,
Your vine is a nest for flies,-
Your milkmaid shocks the Graces,
And simplicity talks of pies!
You lie down to your shady slumber
And wake with a bug in your ear,
And your damsel that walks in the morning
Is shod like a mountaineer.

True love is at home on a carpet,
And mightily likes his ease;-
And true love has an eye for a dinner,
And starves beneath shady trees.

His wing is the fan of a lady,

His foot's an invisible thing,

And his arrow is tipped with a jewel,
And shot from a silver string.

707

Nathaniel Parker Willis [1806–1867]

SONG OF THE MILKMAID

From "Queen Mary"

SHAME upon you, Robin,

Shame upon you now!

Kiss me would you? with my hands

Milking the cow?

Daisies grow again,

Kingcups blow again,

And you came and kissed me milking the cow.

Robin came behind me,

Kissed me well, I Vow;

Cuff him could I? with my hands

Milking the cow?

Swallows fly again,

Cuckoos cry again,

And you came and kissed me milking the cow.

Come, Robin, Robin,

Come and kiss me now;

Help it can I? with my hands

Milking the cow?

Ringdoves coo again,

All things woo again,

Come behind and kiss me milking the cow!

Alfred Tennyson [1809-1892]

"WOULDN'T YOU LIKE TO KNOW"

I KNOW a girl with teeth of pearl,
And shoulders white as snow;

She lives,-ah well,

I must not tell,-
Wouldn't you like to know?

Her sunny hair is wondrous fair,

And wavy in its flow;

Who made it less

One little tress,

Wouldn't you like to know?

Her eyes are blue (celestial hue!)

And dazzling in their glow;

On whom they beam

With melting gleam,-
Wouldn't you like to know?

Her lips are red and finely wed,

Like roses ere they blow;

What lover sips

Those dewy lips,

Wouldn't you like to know?