The Portrait

Would I might sit at thy feet, my sweet,
And on canvas trace
In a glow of color thy form and face.
As blue as the blue above, my love,
Thy rapturous eyes
Uplifted, smiling to laughing skies.
Thy lips red rose to a red rose wed
Neath the dews of June
Half-parted, thrilled with a ravishing tune.
And light on white brow and brown hair as fair
As dawns on the breast
Of the hills in Heaven before the Blest.
Thy shell-pink fingers should twined enshrine
A passion-flow'r full-blown,
Held close to thy heart of deep love, my own
To thy heart to whose every beat, my sweet,
May my love keep time,
Like a sweet song linked to a sweeter rhyme.