IV.

King of her love now I reign and I sing: Ne’er was a king Equal to me, when my head on her breast Softly I rest, Thinking of you, with a poisoned love-dart Deep in your heart.

VIOLETS

Mignon, you love the myrtle and the rose, The lily, all the flowers which grace the close Of queenly Nature’s Eden; love them well, For there are mysteries more than man can tell Deep-hidden in their perfumed censers, dear, And music unknown to the human ear In their harmonious scales of varied hues-- Crimson imperial and eastern blues, Emerald, and sheeny ors, and glittering steel-- Still more for those who have a soul to feel The breath of love which is of beauty born. Bright flowers, bejewelled with the dew of morn, As you are sweet and pure; and God, I trow, Took of the new-born violet’s deepest glow To make the wonder of your tender eyes.

EROTEME

We hold that love is a gift divine, Then why are kisses sold? O, is there then no earthly shrine But men defile with gold!

Maiden, your sixteen springs were worth The jewels of a regal crown.... Why did you hate your humble birth? Why sin for a silken gown?

THE EYE