Faint Heart

My lady fair

Her golden hair

Lets fall a-down her shoulder.

I'd steal a tress-

She's no redress-

Were I a little bolder.

From her sweet lip

A bee might sip

Sweeter than rose-leaf's savor.

A kiss I'd take-

No cry she'd make-

Were I a little bolder.

Her neat, trim waist

Just suits my taste;

Close in my arms I'd fold her,

And clasp her tight-

She'd feel no fright-

Were I a little bolder.

She's waiting now

'Till I find how

To ask of her a favor.

She'll be my wife-

I'd stake my life-

When I'm a little braver.

Harlan Colby Pearson

Index to poems in the collection by Harlan Colby Pearson