AIRY, fairy Lilian, Flitting, fairy Lilian, When I ask her if she love me, Clasps her tiny hand above me, Laughing all she can; She’ll not tell me if she love me, Cruel little Lilian. When my passion seeks Pleasance in love-sighs, She, looking through and through me, Thoroughly to undo me, Smiling, never speaks: So innocent-arch, so cunning-simple, From beneath her gathered wimple Glancing with black-beaded eyes, Till the lightning laughters dimple The baby-roses in her cheeks; Then away she flies. Prithee weep, May Lilian! Gaiety without eclipse Wearieth me, May Lilian: Through my very heart it thrilleth, When from crimson-threaded lips Silver-treble laughter trilleth: Praying all I can, If prayers will not hurt thee, Airy Lilian, Like a rose-leaf I will crush thee, Fairy Lilian. Alfred Tennyson. |