  Two tear-drops of the bluest seas Were prisoned in those laughing eyes, And soft as wind in summer trees The music of her low replies; A sunbeam caught entangled there Makes light in all her golden hair; The wild rose where the wild bees sip Is not so delicate as this, And yet that little rose-curled lip Is very poisonous to kiss, And they were stars of wintry skies That lit the lustre in her eyes. And she will smile and bid you stay And love a little at her will, And love a little—and betray But smile as ever sweetly still; She knows that roses fade away, To-morrows turn to yesterday. She walks the smooth and easy ways Apparelled in her queenly dress, She hears no word that is not praise, And ever of her loveliness; And she will kill, that cannot hate, Dispassionately passionate. |
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