Alfred H. Miles, ed. Women Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907.
By Lyrics. II. The Crown of LoveEmily Pfeiffer (18411890)
I
The light of those dear eyes
Apt to hold you as to win,
All-beautiful, all-wise.
Pray you wherefore should you deem
This a vain and idle dream?
Purblind love that cannot see
That woman still to man may be
Whatever she can seem!
But not to keep you still
Kneeling lowly in the dust,
Obedient to my will;
Nor to surfeit all my days
On the nectar of your praise;
Or to hear it sung so high
That the idle passer-by
Paused to hear your lays.
That, wounded by the herd,
I may bring you healing with
The magic of a word.
Pray you to believe me so
That in darkness, doubt, or woe,
I may guide you when you grope,
Light you with my stronger hope,
Warm you with my glow.
That, fainting in the strife,
Kiss of mine should be a spell,
To win you back to life;
Love me so that day or night,
I could hide the world from sight,
Keep it out with woven arms,
Or subdue it with my charms,
As a goddess might!
As your light shall shine,
Now a homely thing, or vain,
Now almost divine.
Lorn of love, my hands hang down,
I am nothing when you frown;
Hold me fair, and keep me great,
With your faithfulness for state,
And your love for crown!