I KNOW not why, but ev'n to me My songs seem sweet when read to thee. Perhaps in this the pleasure lies— I read my thoughts within thine eyes. And so dare fancy that my art May sink as deeply as thy heart. Perhaps I love to make my words Sing round thee like so many birds, Or, Maybe, they are only sweet As they seem offerings at thy feet. Or haply, Lily, when I speak, I think, perchance, they touch thy cheek, Or with a yet more precious bliss, Die on thy red lips in a kiss. Each reason here—I cannot tell— Or all perhaps may solve the spell. But if she watch when I am by, Lily may deeper see than I. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WORD-PORTRAITS: THE DESCRIPTION OF SIR GEOFFREY CHAUCER by ROBERT GREENE A QUOI BON DIRE by CHARLOTTE MEW THIRTEEN AT TABLE by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER THY DREAMS OMINOUS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 1. THE THIRD SONG by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN: 2. THE LEGEND OF THISBE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER |