Page:New poems and variant readings, Stevenson, 1918.djvu/127

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NE SIT ANCILLÆ TIBI AMOR PUDOR

IT BLOWS A SNOWING GALE

It blows a snowing gale in the winter of the year;
The boats are on the sea and the crews are on the pier.
The needle of the vane, it is veering to and fro,
A flash of sun is on the veering of the vane.
Autumn leaves and rain,
The passion of the gale.

 

NE SIT ANCILLÆ TIBI AMOR PUDOR

There's just a twinkle in your eye
That seems to say I might, if I
Were only bold enough to try
An arm about your waist.
I hear, too, as you come and go,
That pretty nervous laugh, you know;
And then your cap is always so
Coquettishly displaced.


Your cap! the word's profanely said.
That little top-knot, white and red,
That quaintly crowns your graceful head,

No bigger than a flower,