Read "O My Love Leonore" by Fannie Stearns Davis online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
O my Love Leonore! O my lithe Lady! Is it the Grave you are gracing to-night? Is your breast cold now and covered with white? Are you grown stiff, who were lissome and light? --
Are they the plain coffin-planks that you see, Narrow for feet that were flying and free, Rude for white hands that wove spells over me? -- O my Love Leonore, -- O my lithe Lady? --
Is your cheek cool of the flush that I fanned? Must you not dance now, nor once wave your hand? Can you not laugh, through the small stones and sand, -- O my Love Leonore! O my lithe Lady? --
-- It is the Grave I am gracing to-night. I am clay-cold now, and stiff-limbed, and white. A great Lord, DEATH, hath me in this plight.
O my Love Leonore, O my lithe Lady, If he, the great Lord, lays hands on your hand, He will not help you to dance or to stand; Nor from your eyes brush the small stones and sand.
Therefore farewell. Whom he wooeth is won. Therefore farewell. I am jealous of none. Are not both dancing and dying soon done? O my Love Leonore, -- O my lithe Lady? --