Praise of My Lady

My lady seems of ivory

Forehead, straight nose, and cheeks that be

Hollow’d a little mournfully.

Beata mea Domina!

Her forehead, overshadow’d much

By bows of hair, has a wave such

As God was good to make for me.

Beata mea Domina!

Not greatly long my lady’s hair,

Nor yet with yellow colour fair,

But thick and crispèd wonderfully:

Beata mea Domina!

Heavy to make the pale face sad,

And dark, but dead as though it had

Been forged by God most wonderfully

Beata mea Domina!

Of some strange metal, thread by thread,

To stand out from my lady’s head,

Not moving much to tangle me.

Beata mea Domina!

Beneath her brows the lids fall slow.

The lashes a clear shadow throw

Where I would wish my lips to be.

Beata mea Domina!

Her great eyes, standing far apart,

Draw up some memory from her heart,

And gaze out very mournfully;

Beata mea Domina!

So beautiful and kind they are,

But most times looking out afar,

Waiting for something, not for me.

Beata mea Domina!

I wonder if the lashes long

Are those that do her bright eyes wrong,

For always half tears seem to be

Beata mea Domina!

Lurking below the underlid,

Darkening the place where they lie hid:

If they should rise and flow for me!

Beata mea Domina!

Her full lips being made to kiss,

Curl’d up and pensive each one is;

This makes me faint to stand and see.

Beata m............