Louise Imogen Guiney

(1861 - 1920 / United States)

A Seventeenth-Century Song - Poem by Louise Imogen Guiney

She alone of Shepherdesses
With her blue disdayning eyes,
Wo'd not hark a Kyng that dresses
All his lute in sighes:
Yet to winne
I elect for mine Emprise.

None is like her, none above her,
Who so lifts my youth in me,
That a littel more to love her
Were to leave her free!
But to winne
Is mine utmost love's degree.

Distaunce, cold, delay, and danger,
Build the four walles of her bower;
She's noe Sweete for any stranger,
She's noe valley flower:
And to winne
To her height my heart can Tower!

Uppe to Beautie's promontory
I will climb, not loudlie call
Perfect and escaping glory
Folly, if I fall:
Well to winne
To be worth her is my all.

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Read poems about / on: flower, alone, song, heart, love

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

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