When my lady goeth fairly,
And her countenance is rarely
Lighted by the things that please her,
Mien and happy mood according
Are themselves the sweet rewarding
Of the kindling eye that sees her.
But when her course is out of measure,
Or some stirring of displeasure
Tints her cheeks with hues that never
Fell on canvas, when from darkling,
Troubled brows her eyes are sparkling,
She is lovelier than ever.
(Leslie Pinckney Hill)
More Poetry from Leslie Pinckney Hill:
- Christmas At Melrose (Leslie Pinckney Hill Poems)
- Summer Magic (Leslie Pinckney Hill Poems)
- Tuskegee (Leslie Pinckney Hill Poems)
- The Teacher (Leslie Pinckney Hill Poems)