Page:Poems Piatt.djvu/128

None with eyes like his? Oh—oh!
 In diviner ones did I
Look, perhaps, an hour ago.
 Whose? Indeed (you must not cry)
Those I thought of—are not free
To laugh down your tears, you see.

Voice like his was never heard?
 No—but better ones, I vow;
Did you ever hear a bird?—
 Listen, one is singing now!
And his gloves? His gloves? Ah, well,
There are gloves like his to sell.

At the play to-night you'll see,
 In mock-velvet cloaks, mock earls
With mock-jewelled swords, that he
 Were a clown by—Now, those curls
Are the barber's pride, I say;
Do not cry for them, I pray.

If no one should love you? Why,
 You can love some other still:
Philip Sidney, Shakespeare, ay,
 Good King Arthur, if you will;
Raphael—he was handsome too.
Love them one and all. I do.