Venus Verticordia


She hath in her hand to give it thee,
Also within her heart to hold it back;
She muses, with her eyes upon the trak
Of some dazed moth or honey seeking bee-
Haply, “He is as one of these”, saith she;
“Now the sweet apple for his lips, alack!
But brings the dart to turn his midday black,
And wandering for his feet perpetually!”

A littel space her glance is sad & coy;
But if she give the fruit that works her spell,
These eyes shall flame as for her Phrygian boy.
Then shall her bird's strained throat the woe foretell,
And her far seas moan as a single shell,
And through her dark grove strike the light of Troy.

Dante Gabriel Rossetti

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