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by   Unknown (13th Century)

There are little traits that keep me bound...
I think of nothing else save the bright face of my lady-

Ah me!  Her swan-white throat, her strong chin,
Her fresh laughing mouth which daily seems to say, 
"Come kiss me, love, kiss me once again!

Her regal nose, her smiling grey eyes- 
(That thieve to steal a lovers heart)- 
And her brown tresses that wildly fly. 
Each have wounded me as with a dart

So amorous are these that I deem they will slay me.
Ah God, ah God! Alas, who will save me?
        
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Poem ID: 70376   Poem Posted: 4/17/2002
Viewed: 313868  Voted On: 2307  E-mailed: 407  Commented On: 2
 
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