A Lover's Sigh

written by

« Reload image

The Phrygian rock that braves the storm
  Was once a weeping matron's form;
  And Procne, hapless, frantic maid,
  Is now a swallow in the shade.
  Oh that a mirror's form were mine,
  To sparkle with that smile divine;
  And like my heart I then should be,
  Reflecting thee, and only thee!
  Or could I be the robe which holds
  That graceful form within its folds;
  Or, turned into a fountain, lave
  Thy beauties in my circling wave;
  Or, better still, the zone that lies
  Warm to thy breast, and feels its sighs!
  Or like those envious pearls that show
  So faintly round that neck of snow!
  Yes, I would be a happy gem,
  Like them to hang, to fade like them.
  What more would thy Anacreon be?
  Oh, anything that touches thee,
  Nay, sandals for those airy feet--
  Thus to be pressed by thee were sweet!

© Anacreon