Classic Poem

Why are her eyes so bright, so bright,
—Why do her lips control
The kisses of a summer night,
—When I would love her soul?

God set her brave eyes wide apart
—And painted them with fire;
They stir the ashes of my heart
—To embers of desire.

Her lips so tenderly are wrought
—In so divine a shape,
That I am servant to my thought
—And can no wise escape.

Her body is a flower, her hair
—About her neck doth play;
I find her colors everywhere,
—They are the pride of day.

Her little hands are soft, and when
—I see her fingers move
I know in very truth that men
—Have died for less than love.

Ah, dear, live, lovely thing! my eyes
—Have sought her like a prayer;
It is my better self that cries
—“Would she were not so fair!”

Would I might forfeit ecstasy
—And find a calmer place,
Where I might undesirous see
—Her too desired face:

Nor find her eyes so bright, so bright,
—Nor hear her lips unroll
Dream after dream the lifelong night,
—When I would love her soul.