A Mood

You are so light and gay, So slight, sweet maid— Your limbs like leaves in play, Or beams that grasses braid; O! Joys whose jewels pray My breast to be inlaid.

Frail fairy of the streets; Strong, dainty lure; For all men’s eyes the sweets Whose lack makes hearts so poor; While your heart loveless beats, Light, laughing, and impure.

O! Fragrant waft of flesh, Float through me so— My limbs are in your mesh, My blood forgets to flow; Ah! Lilied meadows fresh, It knows where it would go.