Youth and Lordship
MY young lord's the lover Of earth and sky above, Of youth's sway and youth's play, Of songs and flowers and love. Yet for love's desire Green youth lacks the daring; Though one dream of fire, All his hours ensnaring, Burns the boy past bearing— The dream that girls inspire. My young lord's the lover Of every burning thought That Love's will, that Love's skill Within his breast has wrought. Lovely girl, look on him Soft as music's measure; Yield him, when you've won him, Joys and toys at pleasure; But to win your treasure, Softly look upon him. My young lord's the lover Of every tender grace That woman, to woo man, Can wear in form or face. Take him to your bosom Now, girl, or never; Let not your new blossom Of sweet kisses sever; Only guard for ever Your boast within your bosom. My young lord's the lover Of every secret thing, Love-hidden, love-bidden This day to banqueting. Lovely girl, with vaunting Never tempt to-morrow: From all shapes enchanting Any joy can borrow, Still the spectre Sorrow Rises up for haunting. And now my lord's the lover Of ah! so many a sweet,— Of roses, of spouses, As many as love may greet.
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