Sometimes I wish that I were Helen-fair
And wise as Pallas,
That I might have most royal gifts to pour
In love's sweet chalice.
Then I reflect my dear love is no god
But mortal only
And in this heavenly wife might deem himself
Not blest, but lonely.
More verses by Lesbia Harford
- You May Have Other Loves,
- Up In My Room On My Unmade Bed
- When I Go Up To Work The Young Blue Sea
- When I Am Articled
- When I Get Up To Light The Fire,