On my darling's bosom
Has dropped a living rosy bud,
Fair as brilliant Hesper
Against the brimming flood.
She handles him,
She dandles him,
She fondles him and eyes him:
And if upon a tear he wakes,
With many a kiss she dries him:
She covets every move he makes,
And never enough can prize him.
Ah, the young Usurper!
I yield my golden throne:
Such angel bands attend his hands
To claim it for his own.
More verses by George Meredith
- The World's Advance
- Time And Sentiment
- To Alex. Smith, The 'Glasgow Poet,' On His Sonnet To 'Fame'
- The Three Maidens
- The Sweet O' The Year