A MADRIGAL
How can I choose but love you,
Maid of the witching smile?
Your eyes are as blue as the skies above you;
How can I choose but love you, love you,
You and your witching smile?
For the red of your lips is the red of the rose,
And the white of your brows is the white of the snows,
And the gold of your hair is the splendor that glows
When the sun gilds the east at morn.
And the blue of your eyes
Is the blue of the skies
Of an orient day new-born;
And your smile has a charm that is balm to the soul,
And your pa has a bar'l and a many-plunk roll,
So how can I choose but love you, love you,
Love you, love you, love you?