LEMOINE.
In the unquiet night,
With all her beauty bright,
She walketh my silent chamber to and fro;
Not twice of the same mind,
Sometimes unkind—unkind,
And again no cooing dove hath a voice so sweet and low.
With all her beauty bright,
She walketh my silent chamber to and fro;
Not twice of the same mind,
Sometimes unkind—unkind,
And again no cooing dove hath a voice so sweet and low.
Such madness of mirth lies
In the haunting hazel eyes,
When the melody of her laugh charms the listening night;
Its glamour as of old
My charmed senses hold,
Forget I earth and heaven in the pleasures of sense and sight.
In the haunting hazel eyes,
When the melody of her laugh charms the listening night;
Its glamour as of old
My charmed senses hold,
Forget I earth and heaven in the pleasures of sense and sight.
With sudden gay caprice
Quaint sonnets doth she seize,
Wedding them unto sweetness, falling from crimson lips:
Holding the broidered flowers
Of those enchanted hours,
When she wound my will with her silk round her white finger-tips.
Quaint sonnets doth she seize,
Wedding them unto sweetness, falling from crimson lips:
Holding the broidered flowers
Of those enchanted hours,
When she wound my will with her silk round her white finger-tips.
