Annotations METRUM PRAXILLAE EYES SWEET of my Poet how sweet are the eyes, the eye-lids, Open as clear to the sun as the flowers of noon-tide ; Honeyed the light they secure in their shaded amber, Filling the sense with desire to inhale their fragrance, Linger, and feast at their brink as at brink of roses. Book traversal links for Sweet of my poet how sweet are the eyes, the eye-lids ‹ Mine is the eddying foam and the broken current Up Though I sing high, and chaunt above her ›
