SORCERY

Face with the forest eyes,

And the wayward wild-wood hair,

How shall a man be wise,

When a girl's so fair;

How, with her face once seen,

Shall life be as it has been,

This many a year?

Beautiful fearful thing!

You undulant sorcery!

I dare not hear you sing,

Dance not for me;

The whiteness of your breast,

Divinely manifest

I must not see.

Too late, thou luring child,

Moon matches little moon;

I must not be beguiled,

With the honied tune:

Yet O to lay my head

Twixt moon and moon!

‘ Twas so my sad heart said,

Only last June.