A Lovely Lady

A lovely lady full oft lies.
The light that lies within her eyes
and lies and lies, is no surprise.
All her unkindness can devise
to trouble hearts that seek the prize
which is herself, are angel lies —

My Lady

My lady comes to me like break of day.
I dream in darkness if it chance she tarries,
Until the banner of her brightness harries
The hosts of Shadowland from off the way
That she now wills to tread - for what can stay
The triumph of that radiance she carries?
My lady comes to me like break of day.
I dream of darkness if it chance she tarries.
Each sword of sorrow that would maim or slay,
My lady of morning deftly parries.
Yet gods forbid I be the one she marries!
I rise from bed the latest hour I may.
My lady comes to me like break of day;
I dream in darkness if it chance she tarries.