I would you thought my voice the stuff of song
And my two eyes a pair of gleaming lights –
I would you thought that naught I did was wrong
And that in my arms lay all Jove’s delights.
I would you thought my fingers slim and fair
And my complexion rosebud in its bloom;
I would you saw the stars’ light in my hair
And heard in my harsh sighs your cries of doom.
I would you took my words as poets’ verse
And thought my thoughts were wiser than the owl –
I would you did not see me and grow terse
And did not think me bitter-lipped and foul.
I would you thought me angel, goddess, jewel;
And if you do, my dear, you are a fool.