A little cloud in the rosy sky,

And red the sun leaps up, and gold,

And down they swoop, and over the wold, All in the twinkling of an eye.

My mistress mine is light of hand,
And dainty, fair, and calm of mien;
Her head alone bespeaks a queen ;
All things grow trim at her command.
She strews the cage with shining sand,
And grain and groundsel, gold and green,
And rose and white she twines a band
Of rose-buds, the gold bars between.

She sets a perch for every pretty,

With crystal water fills each well,

And hums the while soft amoretti,

With fragrant breath like asphodel ;— And such sweet wording makes her tongue, It seems, for Cupid's worship rung,

It chimed a little silver bell;
And song drops glibly from her lips
Like from the rose's curling tips
The dew-drop or the honey drips,
In twinkling pearl and rubicel.

My mistress mine is lithe and tall,

She motions not, but glides or moves;

She helps her maids to deck the hall

With those fair flowers her fancy loves.

In grace she over-tops them all,
And buoyant is her bird-like head,

And smoother than a turtle-dove's;

And round about, a loosen'd thread
Of fresh carnations and red cloves

Is deftly wove and filleted.

Her eyes are dark with violet, And tender, deep, and still withal.

With sprigs of pinks and mignonette

Her bosom breathes ambrosial

Wherever eke her foot is set,

Her garment as soft music flows

In harmony of folds, and yet

It madrigals the while she goes.

And when she stands so slim and tall,

Enchanting pictures 'gainst the wall

Her very shadow throws.

My lady's heart is blithe and pure;
And eke her hand is sweet and fresh ;
The dimples are as blushing rose,

And creamy peach the dainty flesh : The very dough she fashioneth

No need of sugar finds, nor wine;

The flour that flutters on her breath

Comes strawberry down or bloom of pine;

And what she kneads to all desire

She makes so dainty fine,

Mefears t'would lose at mortal fire

Aromas so divine.

My lady's mind is saintly sweet,
Methinks it is a virginal

Whereon an angel's fingers fleet

Forever fly melodial;

And thus she thinks but heavenly things,

That 'mid the tranquil of her eyes

Most sweetly brim and harmonize,

And blend in hues of angel's wings,
With pensive loves, and sympathies;
And like an holy cordial

That music on the living strings,

And key-board of my heart, and all,

An echo so excites and rings

That mirth itself must swoon and fall,

And melt away beyond recall,

So mutely in such musickings,

So sweetly melancholial.

So swift as is my lady's wit,

And subtle, fanciful and keen,

Her pretty fingers yet prevene, And ply before, and flaunt with it.

I watch her white hand flirt and flit, As if a hundred, 'long the screen,

Like coveys of white turtle-doves
That at the roosting time convene,
And while the needle deftly moves
'Mid rosy threads, and silks and gold,
And purples, and a hundred-fold
Of dapper dyes, her white arms lean
Along the frame-like ivory,

And rare as rich fruit, there between,
Her stooping bosoms are just seen
To lurk and taper, tip and sigh,
Tight from the silk of shimmering green,
That lighter than the glib sea-rims,—
When the white sun is wheeling high,—
Ripples along her perfect limbs.

Straight from apart the broidery bar

O'er which my lovely lady stoops,

From out a dark grey earthen jar

Where blue moresques engraven are,
A slender lily plant, as far

As fair her shoulder, starts and droops
Just at the tip its rosy cup,

Whose every petal crinkling up

With crimson streaks and graceful scoops, Shakes tremulous with dreamy smells,

And peals in perfumed ritournels.

She sits i'the deepest of the shades
Thrown down by the long colonnades,

And though the arches and the loops,
And tracery, the sun-light swoops

In twinkling beams a-down the grades
And marble floor like wash'd with gold;
And warm the air, in the deep cold,
Comes balmy from the garden-glades,
And citron-jars in rows, and troops
Of myrtle-shrubs, and dwarf granades,

And peaches green and white and gold, Walled the bright length of balustrades.

Beside her singly or in groups
Stand forth and pose her model-maids,
In undulating fabrics clad,