Why must lips the wild bees buzz to, -- Why must such sweet lips say "Was you"? Why must wits that write rich sonnets Rest beneath such dreadful bonnets? Why from maidens dear and dainty Must we shrink at hearing "Hain't he"? Why, when hands "make home a heaven," Must their finger-tips be ebon? Why is sweetness just where sour is, Ignorance among the houris, Ugliness where wisdom's flower is? Faith, the riddle past my power is! |