  For a look from her eyes, for a smile of her mouth Any man might well give the best years of his youth; For the touch of her hand, for the warmth of her kiss Might well barter his chances of infinite bliss; For her step is like sunlight that plays on the sea And her bosom is snowy as snowy can be, And her hair is a mantle inwoven with gold Such as Queens might have worn in the legends of old; And her chin oh so white, and her cheek oh so red, They might well drive a man who should look at them mad; But beneath the bright breast where her heart ought to be, What is there? Why a trap to catch fools, sir, like me! October, 1878. [Decorative image unavailable.] |
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