I loved her for that she was beautiful;
And that to me she seem'd to be all Nature,
And all varieties of things in one:
Would set at night in clouds of tears, and rise
All light and laughter in the morning; fear
No petty customs nor appearances;
But think what others only dream'd about;
And say what others did but think; and do
What others did but say; and glory in
What others dared but do; so pure withal
In soul; in heart and act such conscious yet
Such perfect innocence, she made round her
A halo of delight. 'Twas these which won me;—
And that she never school'd within her breast
One thought or feeling, but gave holiday
To all; and that she made all even mine
In the communion of Love; and we
Grew like each other, for we loved each other;
She, mild and generous as the air in Spring;
And I, like Earth all budding out with love.
—Philip James Bailey
To a Discarded Toast
Celia, confess 'tis all in vain
To patch the ruins of thy face;
Nor of ill-natur'd time complain,
That robs it of each blooming grace.
If love no more shall bend his bow,
Nor point his arrows from thine eye,
If no lac'd fop, nor feathered beau,
Despairing at thy feet shall die.
Yet still, my charmer, wit like thine
Shall triumph over age and fate;
Thy setting beams with lustre shine,
And rival their meridian height.
Beauty, fair flower! soon fades away,
And transient are the joys of love;
But wit, and virtue ne'er decay,
Ador'd below, and bless'd above.
—William Somerville
The Bonnie Wee Thing
Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing,
Lovely wee thing, wast thou mine,
I wad wear thee in my bosom,
Lest my jewel I should tine.