Endymion: Book II, 555-569For uponA dreary morning once I fled awayInto the breezy clouds, to weep and prayFor this my love, for vexing Mars had teased Me even to tears. Thence, when a little eased,Down-looking, vacant, through a hazy wood, I sawEndymion: Book II, 555-569
For upon A dreary morning once I fled away Into the breezy clouds, to weep and pray For this my love, for vexing Mars had teased Me even to tears. Thence, when a little eased, Down-looking, vacant, through a hazy wood, I saw this youth as he despairing stood: Those same dark curls blown vagrant in the wind; Those same full-fringed lids a constant blind Over his sullen eyes. I saw him throw Himself on the withered leaves, even as though Death had come sudden; for no jot he moved, Yet muttered wildly. I could hear he loved Some fair immortal, and that his embrace Had zoned her through the night....Continua Nascondi
StanzasI.You say you love; but with a voiceChaster than a nun's, who singethThe soft Vespers to herself While the chime-bell ringether--O love me truly!II. You say you love; but with a smileCold as sunrise in September,As you were Saint Cupid'sStanzas
I. You say you love; but with a voice Chaster than a nun's, who singeth The soft Vespers to herself While the chime-bell ringether-- O love me truly!
II. You say you love; but with a smile Cold as sunrise in September, As you were Saint Cupid's nun, And kept his weeks of Ember, O love me truly!
III. You say you love--but then your lips Coral tinted teach no blisses More than coral in the sea-- They never pout for kisses-- O love me truly!
IV. You say you love; but then your hand No soft squeeze for squeeze returneth, It is like a statue's, dead-- While mine for passion burneth-- O love me truly!
V. O breathe a word or two of fire! Smile, as if those words should burn me, Squeeze as lover shoul -- O kiss And in thy heart inurn me! O love me truly!...Continua Nascondi
Some could argue that they see shades of "To His Coy Mistress" here, but I disagree. Here, the poet is more reverent and respects his gal, only wishing for her to return and reciprocate the affection that he feels towards her. Something about it seems sweet, tender, and more like patient longing than lusty persuasion. Are there any charming male romantics like him left in this world? 5 simple stanzas, 5 little lines, but so beautifully written.
To Emma, 13-17
So fondly I'll breathe, and so softly I'll sigh,
Thou wilt think that some amorous Zephyr is nigh--
Ah, no! -- as I breathe, I will press thy fair knee,
And then thou wilt know that the sigh comes from me.