Ernest Walsh

WHEN Love unveiled her body to my sight

And in my heart a strange unquiet grew,

As soft winds stir the bosom of the night

And, after, spill their tears as drops of dew—

When first Love laid aside her woven dress

Of silken-tissued dreams and scented stuff,

And fastened my young eyes with loveliness

Until I thought one world was scarce enough

To hold such utter happiness and pain—

I begged the god of love to strike me blind,

And seal Love’s image up within my brain,

Queen of my thoughts the kingdom of my Mind!

But when I took Love’s body to my breast,

Her lips were bitter, and her face a jest.