Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal

(25 July 1829 - 11 February 1862 / London / England)

The Lust of the Eyes


I care not for my Lady’s soul
Though I worship before her smile;
I care not where be my Lady’s goal
When her beauty shall lose its wile.

Low sit I down at my Lady’s feet
Gazing through her wild eyes
Smiling to think how my love will fleet
When their starlike beauty dies.

I care not if my Lady pray
To our Father which is in Heaven
But for joy my heart’s quick pulses play
For to me her love is given.

Then who shall close my Lady’s eyes
And who shall fold her hands?
Will any hearken if she cries
Up to the unknown lands?

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

Do you like this poem?
1 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read poems about / on: beauty, father, smile, joy, lust, heaven, love, heart, lost

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Lust of the Eyes by Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal )

Enter the verification code :

Read all 1 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Flowes Do Eventually Wilt, Hazel Durham
  2. No se amor, Sergio Jaime
  3. Haiku: Colored Perceptions, Brian Johnston
  4. Poppy and Moppy, Brian P FitzGerald
  5. 'Nightmare of 'Annabel Lee', Shania K. Younce
  6. I heard him, Nassy Fesharaki
  7. WAIL ON, WOLE, Onwuasoanya FCC Jones
  8. Allegory 1, Tori Bachue
  9. An Interesting Breed They Are, Monk E. Biz
  10. Revolution Brings Salvation, Ruma Chaudhuri

Poem of the Day

poet Edmund Spenser

Of this worlds theatre in which we stay,
My love like the spectator ydly sits
Beholding me that all the pageants play,
Disguysing diversly my troubled wits.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]