Sorcery

Face with the forest eyes, And the wayward wild-wood hair, How shall a man be wise, When a girl's so fair; How, with her face once seen, Shall life be as it has been, This many a year? Beautiful fearful thing! You undulant sorcery! I dare not hear you sing, Dance not for me; The whiteness of your breast, Divinely manifest I must not see. Too late, thou luring child, Moon matches little moon; I must not be beguiled, With the honied tune: Yet O to lay my head Twixt moon and moon! 'Twas so my sad heart said, Only last June.