Awake thee, my Lady-Love! Wake thee, and rise! The sun through the bower peeps Into thine eyes. — George Darley Copy Share Image
Give me, instead of beauty's bust, A tender heart, a loyal mind, Which with temptation I could trust, Yet never linked with error find. — George Darley Copy Share Image
“It is not Beauty I demand, A crystal brow, the moon's despair, Nor the snow's daughter, a white hand, Nor mermaid's yellow pride of… — George Darley Copy Share Image
Awake thee, my Lady-Love! Wake thee, and rise! The sun through the bower peeps Into thine eyes. — George Darley Copy Share Image
There's many a white hand holds an urn With lovers' hearts to dust consumed. — George Darley Copy Share Image
