Gerald Massey

May 29, 1828 - Oct 29, 1907


My Love

by Gerald Massey

My Love is true and tender,
Her eyes are rich with rest;
Her hair of dappled splendour,
The colour I love best;
So sweet, so gay, so odorous warm,
She nestles here, heart-high,
A bounteous aspect, beauteous form,
But -- just a wee bit sly.

My Love is no light Dreamer,
A-floating with the foam;
But a brave life-sea swimmer,
With footing found in Home.
My winsome Wife, she's bright without,
And beautiful within;
But -- I would not say quite without
The least wee touch of sin.

My Love is not an Angel
In one or two small things;
But just a wifely woman
With other wants than wings.
You have some little leaven
Of earth, you darling dear!
If you were fit for Heaven,
You might not nestle here.


Copyright 1866
Boston: Ticknor And Fields