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Dame Helen caused a grievous fray,
For love of her brave men did fight,
The eyes of her made sages fey

And put their hearts in woeful plight.
To her no rhymes will I indite,

For her no garlands will I twine;

Though she be made of flowers and light, No lady is so fair as mine.

L'ENVOI

Prince Eros, Lord of lovely might,

Who on Olympus doth recline,
Do I not tell the truth aright?
No lady is so fair as mine.

URSULA

Joyce Kilmer [1886

I SEE her in the festal warmth to-night,
Her rest all grace, her motion all delight.
Endowed with all the woman's arts that please,
In her soft gown she seems a thing of ease,
Whom sorrow may not reach or evil blight.

To-morrow she will toil from floor to floor
To smile upon the unreplying poor,

To stay the tears of widows, and to be

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Confessor to men's erring hearts ah me!
She knows not I am beggar at her door.
Robert Underwood Johnson [1853-

VILLANELLE OF HIS LADY'S TREASURES

I TOOK her dainty eyes, as well

As silken tendrils of her hair:

And so I made a Villanelle!

I took her voice, a silver bell,

As clear as song, as soft as prayer;

I took her dainty eyes as well.

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

577.

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 Carman [1861

SONG

O, LIKE a queen's her happy tread,
And like a queen's her golden head!
But O, at last, when all is said,

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,
When from her lips her soul took wing;
The oaks forgot their pondering,

The pines their reverie.

And O, her happy, queenly tread,
And O, her queenly golden head!
But O, her heart, when all is said,
Her woman's heart for me!

William Watson (1858

ANY LOVER, ANY LASS

WHY are her eyes so bright, so bright,
Why do her lips control
The kisses of a summer night,

When I would love her soul?

God set her brave eyes wide apart
And painted them with fire;
They stir the ashes of my heart
To embers of desire.

Her lips so tenderly are wrought

In so divine a shape,

That I am servant to my thought
And can no wise escape.

Her body is a flower, her hair
About her neck doth play;
I find her colors everywhere,
They are the pride of day.

Her little hands are soft, and when
I see her fingers move

I know in very truth that men

Have died for less than love.

Songs Ascending

Ah, dear, live, lovely thing! my eyes
Have sought her like a prayer;
It is my better self that cries

"Would she were not so fair!”

Would I might forfeit ecstasy
And find a calmer place,
Where I might undesirous see
Her too desired face:

Nor find her eyes so bright, so bright,
Nor hear her lips unroll

Dream after dream the lifelong night,

When I would love her soul.

579

Richard Middleton [1882-1911]

SONGS ASCENDING

LOVE has been sung a thousand ways

So let it be;

The songs ascending in your praise

Through all my days

Are three.

Your cloud-white body first I sing;

Your love was heaven's blue,

And I, a bird, flew carolling

In ring on ring

Of you.

Your nearness is the second song;

When God began to be,

And bound you strongly, right or wrong,

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580

SONG

"OH! Love," they said, "is King of Kings,

And Triumph is his crown.

Earth fades in flame before his wings,

And Sun and Moon bow down."-
But that, I knew, would never do;
And Heaven is all too high.

So whenever I meet a Queen, I said,

I will not catch her eye.

"Oh! Love," they said, and "Love," they said,

"The gift of Love is this;

A crown of thorns about thy head,

And vinegar to thy kiss!"

But Tragedy is not for me;

And I'm content to be gay.

So whenever I spied a Tragic Lady,
I went another way.

And so I never feared to see

You wander down the street,

Or come across the fields to me
On ordinary feet.

For what they'd never told me of,

And what I never knew;

It was that all the time, my love,

Love would be merely you.

SONG

Rupert Brooke [1887-1915]

How do I love you?

I do not know.

Only because of you

Gladly I go.

Only because of you

Labor is sweet,

And all the song of you

Sings in my feet.

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