We are the ingénues— Blue eyes, long hair, sweet looks— Who live with rainbow dews In seldom read books. We set forth intertwined, And the day no purer seems Than the depths of our mind And our azure dreams; And we romp through the fields, Where our happy calls rise Till day to dusk yields— Chasing butterflies. And a shepherdess' bonnet Screens our face from strong light, And our gown—lace upon it— Is immaculate white. Cavaliers of romances Who capture the skies Shower their glances, Greetings, and sighs, But in vain their romantic Stir, their fine flirts— Before the gigantic Guardian, our skirts. And our free laughter falls At the imagination Of these cling-to-the-walls— Though at times a sensation Stirs the frock that covers Our heart that preens To know we're the future lovers Of libertines. |