|Collection||Kate Strong Historical Library|
|Title||Love's Labor Lost|
|Scope & Content||
Love's labours lost
I sat within the lighted room
Beside the lovely blue-eyed Mary
I praised her handkerchief's perfume
And called her love and dove and faily.
I praised her till her hearts low sighs
Bespoke loves soft unchecked intrusion
I praised her till her down-cast eyes
And swelling bosom spoke confusion
I told her that loves flower grew
Alike in palace court and hovel
I told that I'd jut read through
Sir E.G. Bulwer's last new novel.
And that the love the hero felt
For her this tender cherished bosom
Was not so warm could never melt
Like that which warmed a truer bosom.
I praised Italia's sun & skies
It's moonlight song, and many dances,
And told her with a sigh that I
Worshiped its war-tales and romances
I spoke of him the Tesbian Knight
Of Anthony, the Roman lover
Of him who in the darkest night
The Hellispont swarm three times over
I praised her form her graces her air
I praised her sun illuminated features
I told her that such sunny hair
Was given but to gifted creatures.
I told her with a winning voice
The first bright beam that she stole from heaven
Was kept till nature made her choice
And to her eyes the light was given.
I told her that my heart was love
It longed for one it cherished dearly
And hinted in an undertone
Of stocks in hand and income yearly.
I asked her then where we should be
Twin Bees on opening buds reposing
And panting for the soft reply
I found my blue-eyed girl was dozing
Susan C. Barnett