Read "Felice" by Thomas Nelson Page online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
You are very fair, Felice, wondrous fair, / And the light deep in your eyes / Is more soft than summer skies, / And rare roses in your cheek / Play with lilies hide-and-seek, -- / Play as Pleasure plays with Care.
And your throat is white, Felice, wondrous white, / White as sifted snow, I wis, / Ere the sun hath stol'n a kiss, / High up starry mountain-heights, / Or as in rich moonful nights / Parian baths in Cynthia's light.
And, Felice, your rippling waves of soft hair, / In their mystic depths aye hold / Shade and shimmer of red gold, / Like a halo round your face, / Lending you another grace / From the sunbeams shining there.
And your voice is sweet, Felice, wondrous sweet, / As the murmur of the sea, / After long captivity, / To a sailor far inland, -- / Or as summer flowers fanned / By soft zephyrs blown o'er wheat.
But so stony, fair Felice, is your heart, / That I wonder oft, I own, / If you 're not mere carven stone -- / While my soul your charms enthrall -- / Just some chiseled Goddess tall: / Merely Beauty, Stone, and Art.