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And her face so fair
Stirr'd with her dream, as rose-leaves with the air.
And her face so fair
Stirr'd with her dream, as rose-leaves with the air.
Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face.
Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face.
Cheek . . .
Flushing white and mellow'd red;
Gradual tints, as when there glows
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Cheek . . .
Flushing white and mellow'd red;
Gradual tints, as when there glows
In snowy milk the bashful rose.
The face the index of a feeling mind.
The face the index of a feeling mind.
There is a garden in her face,
Where roses and white lilies blow;
A heavenly paradise is read more
There is a garden in her face,
Where roses and white lilies blow;
A heavenly paradise is that place,
Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow.
There cherries grow that none may buy,
Till cherry ripe themselves do cry.
These faces in the mirrors
Are but the shadows and phantoms of myself.
These faces in the mirrors
Are but the shadows and phantoms of myself.
Yet even her tyranny had such a grace,
The women pardoned all, except her face.
Yet even her tyranny had such a grace,
The women pardoned all, except her face.
With faces like dead lovers who died true.
With faces like dead lovers who died true.
