Words

A poem by George Pope Morris

Adapted to a Spanish Melody.




My lady hath as soft a hand
As any queen in fairy-land;
And, hidden in her tiny boot,
As dainty and as light a foot.
Her foot!
Her little hand and foot!

No star that kindles in the sky
Burns brighter than my lady's eye;
And ne'er before did beauty grace
So fair a form, so sweet a face!
Her face!
Her gentle form and face!

My lady hath a golden heart,
Free from the dross of worldly art;
Which, in the sight of heaven above,
Is mine with all its hoarded love!
Her love!
Her boundless wealth of love!

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'Words' by George Pope Morris

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy