Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/In Imitation of Shakspeare

In Imitation of Shakespere's Sonnets.

I saw a maid let fall a tender tear,Which, as it travelled down her virgin cheek,Did better tell me of her bosom's care,Than all the language which her tongue could speak.And as she smiled, and in her cheeks she wore,Two dimples, such as Venus' self might own,Where Cupid nestling with his golden store,Quick as I gazed, an arrow had let flown;I felt its smart, and straightway did devise,That love, from smiles, not tears, doth take its rise.