EVERY day I have a meeting With my golden-tressed beauty In the Tuileries' fair garden Underneath the chesnuts' shadow. Every day she goes to walk there With two old and ugly women -- Are they aunts? or else two soldiers Muffled up in women's garments? Overawed by the mustachios Of her masculine attendants, And still further overawed too By the feelings in my bosom, I ne'er ventured e'en one sighing Word to whisper as I pass'd her, And with looks I scarcely ventured Ever to proclaim my passion. For the first time I to-day have Learnt her name. Her name is Laura, Like the Provencal fair maiden Whom the famous poet loved so. Laura is her name! I've gone now Just as far as Master Petrarch, Who the fair one celebrated In canzonas and in sonnets. Laura is her name! like Petrarch I can now platonically Revel in this name euphonious -- He himself no further ventured. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUMMER DAYS by WATHEN MARK WILKS CALL THE YOUNG RABBI by E. C. L. BROWNE DRIFTWOOD by DAISY DEAN BUTLER TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, BOTH IN BIRTH AND VIRTUE, EARL OF CUMBERLAND by THOMAS CAMPION OVER THE WINTRY THRESHOLD by BLISS CARMAN TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 2. I KNOW THAT YOU ARE SELF-CONSCIOUS by EDWARD CARPENTER |