LUCIETTA, my deary, That fairest of faces! Is made up of kisses; But, in love, oft the case is Even stranger than this is -- There's another, that's slyer, Who touches me nigher, -- A Witch, an intriguer, Whose manner and figure Now piques me, excites me, Torments and delights me -- Coetera desunt. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OUR CHRIST by HARRY WEBB FARRINGTON THE BELLS OF YOUTH by WILLIAM SHARP THE BUBBLE by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM MY LITTLE TASK by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON I WILL HAVE FAITH by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THE INNOCENT THIEF by VINCENT BOURNE THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: THE STORM by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |