Loved one -- gladly would I know it

Loved one -- gladly would I know it, --

Art thou but a vision fair,

Such as in his brain the poet

Loves in summer to prepare?

No! such eyes of magic splendor,

Lips so rosy and so warm,

Such a child, so sweet and tender,

Never did the poet form.

Basilisks and vampyres gory,

Dragons, monsters of the earth,

Suchlike evil beats of story

In the poet's fire have birth.

But thyself, thy wiles insidious,

And thy face, so sweet and staid,

And thy kindly looks perfidious,--

These the poet never made.