Will love descend
A HEAVEN-BORN goddess is sweet love:
Will she descend to common cares,
And breathe our dusty, earthly airs
In narrow paths, nor pine to rove?
She'll want soft carpets for her feet;
She'll want rich jewels in her hair,
From out her windows landscapes rare,
And in must float all perfumes sweet.
She'd weary of a petty round
Of household tasks that every day
Fritter and fret the life away,—
Though husband worshipped, children crowned.
Yes, heart that thought the heavens to scale,
And pluck a star from her bright zone,
Stars are too high to call thine own:
Go seek a rushlight in the vale.
Will she descend to common cares,
And breathe our dusty, earthly airs
In narrow paths, nor pine to rove?
She'll want soft carpets for her feet;
She'll want rich jewels in her hair,
From out her windows landscapes rare,
And in must float all perfumes sweet.
She'd weary of a petty round
Of household tasks that every day
Fritter and fret the life away,—
Though husband worshipped, children crowned.
Yes, heart that thought the heavens to scale,
And pluck a star from her bright zone,
Stars are too high to call thine own:
Go seek a rushlight in the vale.
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