  LADY mine, most fair thou art With youth’s gold and white and red; ’Tis a pity that thy heart Is so much harder than thy head. This has stayed my kisses oft, This from all thy charms debarr’d, That thy head is strangely soft, While thy heart is strangely hard. Nothing had kept us apart— I had loved thee, I had wed— Hadst thou had a softer heart But I think I’ll bear Love’s smart Till the wound has healed and fled, Or thy head is like thy heart, Or thy heart is like thy head. Herbert Edwin Clarke. |
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