QU'AIMEZ-VOUS?
I love a dark eye 'neath a pencilled brow,
On a white forehead I love raven hair;
And you have long black hair, you must allow,
O'er a white front, and where's the jet would dare
With such an eye compare?
I love a supple figure that with grace
Bends on a sofa: idle all the day;
Have you e'er thought how in your 'customed place
You bend above a book? Not idle? nay,
Your occupation, pray?
I love a pained and melancholy look,
A throbbing heart, and eyes half-closed for tears,
And heavy sighs. An odd choice? Then, O book,
Relate some tale of lovers' griefs and fears,
And lo! The odd appears!
I love to find a compound made of joy
And reverie, and languor, deftly blent,
Whoever has it may my heart decoy;
Smile on, but say to whom this gift is lent,
And tell me who is meant!
