The Story
of Saville
Word-semblance thereof, and limn for you the lines of this poor fair face?”
“Not so!” laughed Kyrle, “too well I fathom your woman’s and poet’s ways—
The truth within you abideth not,—you would lure me into a maze,
And muddy your matchless beauty, miring it with dispraise!”
“No, no!” quoth Saville, “Oh, I should not dare!—What, speak of my person a lie,
Defaming the charms which had you but seen I surely had won you by?
Nay, dear heart, shall I paint for you a meteor’s arrowy flight,
The captain jewels that blaze serene in the tiara of night,
And not do justice to this my beauty and bring it full plain to your sight?
For I am beautiful,—amethyst clear are mine eyes, and yet amaranth deep,
Violets held by a nixie’s hand under the liquid sweep
Of a brook, little wells where truth celestial lieth in summery sleep,
And my hair glints gold as our marriage ring, and lifts in a shimmering cloud
