Alfred H. Miles, ed. Women Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907.
By Phantasmion. A Fairy Tale (1837). VII. False Love, too long thou hast delaydSarah Coleridge (18021850)
F
Too late I make my choice;
Yet win for me that precious maid,
And bid my heart rejoice:
Then shall mine eyes shoot youthful fire,
My cheek with triumph glow,
And other maids that glance desire,
Which I on one bestow.
Beam sunshine o’er my face,
And Time shall touch with gentlest hand
What she hath deigned to grace;
O’er scanty locks full wreaths I’ll wear;
No wrinkled brow to shade,
For joy will smooth the furrows there,
Which earlier griefs have made.
When youth has pass’d away,
I’ll cast aside the martial spoil
With her light locks to play;
Yea, turn, sweet maid, from tented field
To rove where dew-drops shine,
Nor care what hand the sceptre wield,
So thou wilt grant me thine.