Song It may be, said I, who can tell, These things shall be my less despair? And so I made a Villanelle! I took her whiteness virginal And from her cheeks two roses rare: I took her dainty eyes as well. I said: "It may be possible Her image from my heart to tear!" And so I made a Villanelle! I stole her laugh, most musical: I wrought it in with artful care; I took her dainty eyes as well; And so I made a Villanelle. SONG 559 Ernest Dowson [1867-1900] LOVE, by that loosened hair Well now I know Where the lost Lilith went So long ago. Love, by those starry eyes I understand How the sea maidens lure Mortals from land. Love, by that welling laugh Joy claims his own Sea-born and wind-wayward Child of the sun. Bliss Carmen [1861 SONG O, LIKE a queen's her happy tread, Her woman's heart for me! We wandered where the river gleamed 'Neath oaks that mused and pines that dreamed, A wild thing of the woods she seemed, So proud, and pure, and free! All heaven drew nigh to hear her sing, The pines their reverie. And O, her happy, queenly tread, William Watson (1858 PLAINTS AND PROTESTATIONS "FORGET NOT YET" THE LOVER BESEECHETH HIS MISTRESS NOT TO FORGET HIS FORGET not yet the tried intent Forget not yet when first began Forget not yet the great assays, Forget not! O, forget not this!— How long ago hath been, and is, The mind that never meant amiss Forget not yet! Forget not then thine own approved, Thomas Wyatt [1503?-1542] FAWNIA From "Pandosto Ан! were she pitiful as she is fair, Or but as mild as she is seeming so, Then were my hopes greater than my despair, Ah! were her heart relenting as her hand, Ah! when she sings, all music else be still, O glorious sun, imagine me the west, THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE COME live with me and be my Love, And we will sit upon the rocks, And I will make thee beds of roses Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle. The Nymph's Reply A gown made of the finest wool Which from our pretty lambs we pull; A belt of straw and ivy-buds The shepherd swains shall dance and sing If these delights thy mind may move, 563 Christopher Marlowe [1564-1593] THE NYMPH'S REPLY TO THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD If all the world and love were young, But Time drives flocks from field to feld; The flowers do fade, and wanton fields Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, |