(With special thanks to Andy Marvell)
My little Lady, come and play
Betwixt the sunshine of the day
And twilight where the shadows lay
And vapours slowly raise.
The cats are meowing at your feet,
The angels by your bedside meet,
The lammies in your pastures bleat,
And sing to you their praise.
The chaffinch dwelling in your dreams,
The thrush whose glance in blackness gleams,
The skylark who in sunlight swims,
All chant as best they can.
Their voices mix and forward bring
The echo of celestial Spring
To which with waning force I cling
As though a drowning man.
My darling Lady, smile or cry --
You cannot make the spirit die.
Your lovely eyes can never lie,
While words and actions will.
Your features fine, yet slightly pale,
Will tell my heart a hopeful tale
Like fire in dark and lonely vale
As seen from distant hill.
Your being naughty, cool, and coy
Will twice revive me, thrice destroy,
And yet with ever-growing joy
Your company I'll crave,
For at my back I often hear
The Autumn's wailings drawing near,
And blizzards hissing in my ear,
And whispers of the grave.