A MOOD
You are so light and gay,
So slight, sweet maid—
Your limbs like leaves in play,
Or beams that grasses braid;
O! Joys whose jewels pray
My breast to be inlaid.
Frail fairy of the streets;
Strong, dainty lure;
For all men’s eyes the sweets
Whose lack makes hearts so poor;
While your heart loveless beats,
Light, laughing, and impure.
O! Fragrant waft of flesh,
Float through me so—
My limbs are in your mesh,
My blood forgets to flow;
Ah! Lilied meadows fresh,
It knows where it would go.