Nathaniel Parker Willis (1806–1867)

I WOULD that thou might always be

As innocent as now,

That time might ever leave as free

Thy yet unwritten brow.

I would life were all poetry

To gentle measure set,

That nought but chastened melody

Might stain thine eye of jet,

Nor one discordant note be spoken,

Till God the cunning harp had broken.

I fear thy gentle loveliness,

Thy witching tone and air,

Thine eye’s beseeching earnestness

May be to thee a snare.

The silver stars may purely shine,

The waters taintless flow;

But they who kneel at woman’s shrine

Breathe on it as they bow.