The Poetry Corner

TO ---- .

By Madison Julius Cawein

"Lydia, dic, per omnes Te deos oro!" I What are the subtleties Which woo me in her eyes To oaths she deems but lies, I can not tell, I can not tell, Nor will she. They are beyond my thought. For when I gaze I'm nought, My senses all unwrought, It is not well, it is not well, Now Lily! II What is the magic sweet Which makes hot pulses beat, A wayward tongue repeat A name for weeks, a name for weeks Will, nill he? Ai me! the pleasant pain Falls sweetly on the brain Like some slow sunny rain, Whene'er she speaks, whene'er she speaks This Lily. III What is the witchery rare Which snares me in her hair So deeply that I dare, I dare not move, I dare not move, - Lie stilly? In looks and winning ways The bloom of love she lays Like fire on all my days, And makes me love, and makes me love This Lily.