TELL thee truth, sweet; no. <br />Truth is cross and sad and cold: <br />Lies are pitiful and kind, <br />Honey-soft as Love's own tongue: <br />Let me, love, lie so. <br />Lies are like a summer wind, <br />Wooing flower-buds to unfold <br />Lies will last while men are young. <br />Tell thee truth, love; no. <br /> <br />Let me, sweet, lie so. <br />Lies are Hope's light ministers, <br />Footless birds upon the wing: <br />Truth's a name for plodding care: <br />Tell thee truth, sweet; no. <br />Truth's the east wind on the Spring— <br />'Tis the wind, not Spring-time, errs. <br />Lies will last while maids are fair. <br />Let me lie, love, so.<br /><br />Augusta Davies Webster<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tell-thee-truth-sweet-no/
