Verse > Anthologies > Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. > A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895
Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908).  A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895.  1895.
Cosmo Monkhouse (b. 1840)
WHO calls me bold because I won my love,
    And did not pine,
And waste my life with secret pain, but strove
    To make him mine?
I us’d no arts; ’t was Nature’s self that taught        5
    My eye to speak,
And bid the burning blush to paint unsought
    My flashing cheek;
That made my voice to tremble when I bid
    My love “Goodby,”        10
So weak that every other sound was hid,
    Except a sigh.
Oh, was it wrong to use the truth I knew,
    That hearts are mov’d,
And spring warm-struck with life and love anew,        15
    By being lov’d?
One night there came a tear, that, big and loth,
    Stole ’neath my brow.
’T was thus I won my heart’s own heart, and both
    Are happy now.        20


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