Fair Maiden of a Village Fair

Fair maiden of the village fair,
How love I thy resplendent eyes!

Resplendent? No; the phrase is weak,
And all my warm intent belies.
How often have I written, said:
That I have seen a pure blue sky;

Yet false it was, none such I saw
Until I gazed into thine eye.

Didst thou not mark my raptured gaze.
With what devotion on thine eyes

I hung, as on the crucifix,

Enrapt, doth hang the saint that dies!

And thou couldst my redeemer be
In truth, yet have no need to die;

My ardent breast thou wouldst embrace,
Nor on a pulseless body lie.
What folly is it that I say?

Love I ne'er can have from thee!
Where is the maid her love would give
Unto a poet, poor, like me?

For God hath made the poet poor;
And this is fit, for, mark my words,
No plumage, many hued and gray,

Bedecks the sweetest singing birds.

How can the simple poet, then,
Expect a maiden's heart to gain?

Maids justly love to shine down here;
£.s stars of earth they wish to reign.

Thou, little sweetheart, art my star
And none can say me nay that I,

Who may not wear thee on my breast,
Shall yet pursue thee with my eye.

I with mine eyes shall follow thee;

Through life I will pursue afar;
And if from thence thou send'st no warmth

At least look down on me, my star.