John Hay

(8 October 1838 – 1 July 1905 / Salem, Indiana)

Obedience - Poem by John Hay

The lady of my love bids me not love her.
I can but bow obedient to her will;
And so, henceforth, I love her not; but still
I love the lustrous hair that glitters over
Her proud young head; I love the smiles that hover
About her mouth; the lights and shades that fill
Her star-bright eyes; the low, rich tones that thrill
Like thrush-songs gurgling from a vernal cover.
I love the fluttering dimples in her cheek;
Her cheek I love, its soft and tender bloom;
I love her sweet lips and the words they speak,
Words wise or witty, full of joy or doom.
I love her shoes, her gloves, her dainty dress;
And all they clasp, and cling to, and caress.

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Read poems about / on: star, hair, joy, love, song, smile

Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 4, 2003

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