sorrowfully bear,
In all their heaumes some yellow hair.

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 crisped 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 mea Domina!_

Her lips are not contented now,
Because the hours pass so slow
Towards a sweet time: (pray for me),
_Beata mea Domina!_

Nay, hold thy peace! for who can tell?
But this at least I know full well,
Her lips are parted longingly,
_Beata mea Domina!_

So passionate and swift to move,
To pluck at any flying love,
That I grow faint to stand and see.
_Beata mea Domina_!

Yea! there beneath them is her chin,
So fine and round, it were a sin
To feel no weaker when I see
_Beata mea Domina_!

God's dealings; for with so much