Sienna
I Love thee, love thee, Giulio!
Some call me cold, and some demure,
And if thou hast ever guessed that so
I love thee … well;—the proof was poor,
And no one could be sure.
Before thy song (with shifted rhymes
To suit my name) did I undo
The persian? If it moved sometimes,
Thou hast not seen a hand push...
IN 1 moss-prankt dells which the sunbeams flatter
(And heaven it knoweth what that may mean;
Meaning, however, is no great matter)
Where woods are a-tremble, with rifts atween;
Through God’s own heather we wonned together,
I and my Willie (O love my love):
I need hardly remark it was glorious weather,
And flitterbats waved alow...
