WOMAN! when I behold thee flippant, vain,
　Inconstant, childish, proud, and full of fancies;
　Without that modest softening that enhances
The downcast eye, repentant of the pain
That its mild light creates to heal again: 5
　E’en then, elate, my spirit leaps, and prances,
　E’en then my soul with exultation dances
For that to love, so long, I’ve dormant lain:
But when I see thee meek, and kind, and tender,
　Heavens! how desperately do I adore 10
Thy winning graces;—to be thy defender
　I hotly burn—to be a Calidore—
A very Red Cross Knight—a stout Leander—
　Might I be loved by thee like these of yore.

Light feet, dark violet eyes, and parted hair; 15
　Soft dimpled hands, white neck, and creamy breast,
　Are things on which the dazzled senses rest
Till the fond, fixed eyes, forget they stare.
From such fine pictures, heavens! I cannot dare
　To turn my admiration, though unpossess’d 20
　They be of what is worthy,—though not drest
In lovely modesty, and virtues rare.
Yet these I leave as thoughtless as a lark;
　These lures I straight forget—e’en ere I dine,
Or thrice my palate moisten: but when I mark 25
　Such charms with mild intelligences shine,
My ear is open like a greedy shark,
　To catch the tunings of a voice divine.

Ah! who can e’er forget so fair a being?
　Who can forget her half retiring sweets? 30
　God! she is like a milk-white lamb that bleats
For man’s protection. Surely the All-seeing,
Who joys to see us with his gifts agreeing,
　Will never give him pinions, who intreats
　Such innocence to ruin,—who vilely cheats 35
A dove-like bosom. In truth there is no freeing
One’s thoughts from such a beauty; when I hear
　A lay that once I saw her hand awake,
Her form seems floating palpable, and near;
　Had I e’er seen her from an arbour take 40
A dewy flower, oft would that hand appear,
　And o’er my eyes the trembling moisture shake.