Phantom-Wooer: The Thomas Lovell Beddoes Website

   Lady, was it fair of thee
   To seem so passing fair to me?
      Not every star to every eye
         Is fair; and why
   Art thou another’s share?
      Did thine eyes shed brighter glances,
   Thine unkissed bosom heave more fair,
      To his than to my fancies?
         But I’ll forgive thee still;
         Thou’rt fair without thy will.
         So be: but never know,
         That ’tis the hue of woe.

   Lady, was it fair of thee
   To be so gentle still to me?
      Not every lip to every eye
         Should let smiles fly.
   Why didst thou never frown,
      To frighten from my pillow
Love’s head, round which Hope wove a crown,
      And saw not ’twas of willow?
         But I’ll forgive thee still;
         Thou knew’st not smiles could kill.
         Smile on: but never know,
         I die, nor of what woe.

[Kelsall, 1851]