O WORDS, which fall like summer dew on me; O breath, more sweet than is the growing bean; O tongue, in which all honeyed liquors be; O voice, that doth the thrush in shrillness stain; Do you say still, this is her promised due, That she is mine, as I to her am true. Gay hair, more gay than straw when harvest lies; Lips red and plum, as cherry's ruddy side; Eyes fair and great, like fair great ox's eyes; O breast, where virtue dwells in purest pride; Join you with me, to seal this promise due That she be mine, as I to her am true. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CORN SONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR BUDMOUTH DEARS by THOMAS HARDY THE CHINESE NIGHTINGALE; A SONG IN CHINESE TAPESTRIES by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY AFTER DEATH by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI PHANTOMS ALL by HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD SONNET: MAN VERSUS ASCETIC. 3 by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON RAMBLE OF THE GODS THROUGH BIRMINGHAM, SELECTION by JAMES BISSET |