Explore "To A. M. M." by Leigh Gordon Giltner on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
She is so shy, this little love of mine, / So pale and pure, almost I fear to speak / The love that thrills my every pulse like wine / Yet brings no answering flush to her fair cheek.
She is so calm that Passion's stirring strain / To chanson soft and low unbidden dies; / The while her longing lover sighs in vain / For one soft love-glance from her down-dropped eyes.
A lily she that from its garden bed, / Into the golden sunshine glad and sweet / Lifts to far sapphire skies its radiant head, / Unheedful of the base weeds at its feet.
Yet--should one loving reverently kneel / And draw the lily's close-shut leaves apart, / Perchance those waxen petals might reveal / Enshrined within, a glowing golden heart.