DAINTY Buttercup, my bird, Dances at the mirror, stirred By an ecstasy of song; Tosses wing, pipes loud and long; For this new mate, breast to breast, Seems of golden birds the best. Ah, my foolish little love, Just such fantasy doth move Your sweet spirit, when you find Treasure in my heart or mind; 'T is not anything in me -- 'T is your image that you see! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 26. MID-RAPTURE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI FOUR SONGS BY WAY OF CHORUS TO A PLAY: 3. SEPARATION OF LOVERS by THOMAS CAREW TOWN AND COUNTRY by WILLIAM FRENCH COLLINS A MAY SONG by MARY M. SINGLETON CURRIE THE BALLAD OF ADAM'S FIRST by LELAND DAVIS ALLEGRA AND TRISTITIA by ANNA BUNSTON DE BARY TO THE COUNTESS OF BEDFORD; BEGUN IN FRANCE BUT NEVER PERFECTED by JOHN DONNE |