Your face unmatched in th' world of men,
I see now, and your skin so fair
Oh glorious splendor, safe from sin,
I long to look upon your air.
Your eyes which gleam and seem to stare,
Through to my soul and see the lie,
I've hidden well with so much care.
I give it up w'th a parting sigh.
I wonder now, is your heart nigh?
Or is my brain untrue to me?
I wish my soul with you could fly,
Above the land and o'er the sea.
But shall I speak? I do not dare!
I only look upon your air.
In my mind I see the pallid Star!
In silent awe of its fair light,
I settle my eyes on it from afar,
And speculate if on this night,
I am too removed from its sight,
That I am obscured from its eye.
What that Star from its height,
On the exalted perch in the sky,
May see, I, as mortal, cannot defy!
I hope in some way to correlate,
My own soul to that lone so high,
Or will my wish the Star berate,
And its sallow aura desecrate?
'Tis healthier I not dream of it!
I will not now produce new hate,
I will not while the Star is lit!
Lamentations on the Nature of Beauty
So sad it is to view beauty die in pain,
And cry insufferable shrieks.
But such rot comes to all,
As truthful tears,
Fall rarely.
But when a Nereyde's brother is slain,
Its silent mourning bespeaks,
Of grief that enthralls,
Its sad heart near,
Deep misery.
A rough hide and a countenance plain,
Love kinder than ruddy cheeks.
This verity forestalls,
Sympathy sincere,
And loyalty.
Your face unmatched in th' world of men,
I see now, and your skin so fair
Oh glorious splendor, safe from sin,
I long to look upon your air.
Your eyes which gleam and seem to stare,
Through to my soul and see the lie,
I've hidden well with so much care.
I give it up w'th a parting sigh.
I wonder now, is your heart nigh?
Or is my brain untrue to me?
I wish my soul with you could fly,
Above the land and o'er the sea.
But shall I speak? I do not dare!
I only look upon your air.
In my mind I see the pallid Star!
In silent awe of its fair light,
I settle my eyes on it from afar,
And speculate if on this night,
I am too removed from its sight,
That I am obscured from its eye.
What that Star from its height,
On the exalted perch in the sky,
May see, I, as mortal, cannot defy!
I hope in some way to correlate,
My own soul to that lone so high,
Or will my wish the Star berate,
And its sallow aura desecrate?
'Tis healthier I not dream of it!
I will not now produce new hate,
I will not while the Star is lit!
Lamentations on the Nature of Beauty
So sad it is to view beauty die in pain,
And cry insufferable shrieks.
But such rot comes to all,
As truthful tears,
Fall rarely.
But when a Nereyde's brother is slain,
Its silent mourning bespeaks,
Of grief that enthralls,
Its sad heart near,
Deep misery.
A rough hide and a countenance plain,
Love kinder than ruddy cheeks.
This verity forestalls,
Sympathy sincere,
And loyalty.