Fear

Sweet lady of the timid eyes—
You make me think of hounds that rise,
And hunt the innocent gazelle
All terrified from out her dell.
And do those eyes refuse to shine
With fullest trust save into mine?
Those cheeks and lips, that head of hair,
With all that love expresses there,
Reserved for mine especial care?
—May never constant colour cease
In lip or cheek, grey hairs increase,
Because of my disloyalty;
Nor tears be shed in vain for me
Like drops that fall in vain at sea.