'Tis said that under distant skies, <br />Nor you the fact deny, <br />What first attracts an Indian's eyes <br />Becomes his deity. <br /> <br />Perhaps a lily, or a rose, <br />That shares the morning's ray, <br />May to the waking swain disclose <br />The regent of the day. <br /> <br />Perhaps a plant in yonder grove, <br />Enrich'd with fragrant power, <br />May tempt his vagrant eyes to rove <br />Where blooms the sovereign flower. <br /> <br />Perch'd on the cedar's topmost bough, <br />And gay with gilded wings, <br />Perchance, the patron of his vow, <br />Some artless linnet sings. <br /> <br />The swain surveys her pleased, afraid, <br />Then low to earth he bends; <br />And owns, upon her friendly aid, <br />His health, his life depends. <br /> <br />Vain futile idols, bird or flower, <br />To tempt a votary's prayer!- <br />How would his humble homage tower <br />Should he behold my fair! <br /> <br />Yes-might the Pagan's waking eyes, <br />O'er Flavia's beauty range, <br />He there would fix his lasting choice, <br />Nor dare, nor wish, to change.<br /><br />William Shenstone<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/valentine-s-day-47/
