Stay! let the breeze still blow on me
That pass’d o’er her, my heart’s true queen!
Were she not sweet as sweet can be
So soft that breeze had never been.
O’ercome, my heart to her bows down;
Yet heaven protect thee, lady, still!
O were those roseate lips my own,
I might defy e’en age’s chill.
Before that loveliest of the land
Well may the boaster’s tongue run low:
I view those eyes, that lily hand,
And still tow’rd where she tarries bow.
O might I that fair form enfold,
As evening sweetly closed on us!
No — that were more than heart could hold;
Enough for me to praise her thus.
(Henry of Anhalt)
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Based on Topics: Kings & Queens PoemsBased on Keywords: boaster