FOURTEENTH CENTURY FORM

Mignonne , whose face bends low for my caressing,
New and unknown to-night thy beauty seemeth;
Dimly I read thine eyes as one who dreameth.

The moonlight yester-eve fell soft in blessing,
That coldly now across thy bright hair gleameth;
Mignonne, whose face bends low for my caressing,
New and unknown to-night thy beauty seemeth.

As penitent, low-voiced, his sins confessing,
Pleads where the light of the high altar streameth,
I speak to thee, whose love my love redeemeth.
Mignonne, whose face bends low for my caressing,
New and unknown to-night thy beauty seemeth;
Dimly I read thine eyes as one who dreameth.