'TIS not that my Ladye hath bountiful hair— Those deep-scented tresses, which lovers declare Are the first of Love's charms and the breath of its air. 'Tis not that my Ladye hath wonderful eyes, Whose depth is the ocean, whose zenith the skies, Whose harmonies wake in the kingdom of sighs. 'Tis not that my Ladye is sweet as the Rose, When the dews of the morning its freshness disclose, Or while it more fragrantly sinks to repose. 'Tis not that my Ladye is tender and kind, That the queenliest of virtues are blissfully shrined In the grace of her speech, in the charm of her mind. Then why doth my Ladye my homage compel?— When a maid holds the keys of high heaven and of hell, 'Twere vain to resist her, 'twere rash to rebel! And so, past redemption, I love her. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: EMILY SPARKS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: TOM MERRITT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A COLONIAL MORNING DREAM by KAREN SWENSON THE DESOLATE FIELD by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS |