GrEek AnthoLogy

1

it is not love to love the fair
And feast one's eyes on beauty rare,
For beauty all men's gaze enthralls,
Nor for a lovers rapture calls.

Nay, he alone true love doth knows,
Who pays no heed to outward show,
And Though his Mistress homely be,
Still finds in her the perfect She.

2

A lad knows nothing of the woes
that we poor lasses bear,
Among his comrades blithe he goes,
And his friend his sorrows share.

He has his games, whenever he please,
He strolls from street to street,
He find delight in all he sees,
His eyes bright colors meet.

but we poor girls are hid away
We never see the light,
We brood in solitude by day
and weep alone at night.

We live as though in dungeons sealed,
Where no men ever come,
Unkissed, uncourted, unrevealed,
pale prisoners of the home.