O WORDS, which fall like summer dew on me; O breath, more sweet than is the growing bean; O tongue, in which all honeyed liquors be; O voice, that doth the thrush in shrillness stain; Do you say still, this is her promised due, That she is mine, as I to her am true. Gay hair, more gay than straw when harvest lies; Lips red and plum, as cherry's ruddy side; Eyes fair and great, like fair great ox's eyes; O breast, where virtue dwells in purest pride; Join you with me, to seal this promise due That she be mine, as I to her am true. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHILD MARGARET by CARL SANDBURG THE LISBON PACKET by GEORGE GORDON BYRON LAST SONNET (REVISED VERSION) by JOHN KEATS METAMORPHOSES: 11. INVOCATION OF ISIS by LUCIUS APULEIUS SPRING'S UNFOLDING by IRENE ARCHER SPANISH WINGS: SENORITA by H. BABCOCK |