Poor heart: these words for ever ring,
Fair dame wins not the faint fearing;
Tho' secretly it may repine
The loss that would make life divine,
Yet it must be content to sing,
A coward still.
John Cameron Grant.
RONDEAUX OF CITIES.
I.
(Rondeau à la Boston.)
A cultured mind! Before I speak
The words, sweet maid, to tinge thy cheek
With blushes of the nodding rose
That on thy breast in beauty blows,
I prithee satisfy my freak.
Canst thou read Latin and eke Greek?
Dost thou for knowledge pine and peak?
Hast thou, in short, as I suppose,
A cultured mind.
Some men require a maiden meek
Enough to eat at need the leek;
Some lovers crave a classic nose,
A liquid eye, or faultless pose;
I none of these, I only seek
A cultured mind.
II.
(Rondeau à la New York.)
A pot of gold! O mistress fair,
With eyes of brown that pass compare,
Ere I on bended knee express
The love which you already guess,
I fain would ask a small affair.