THE LADY
Apt scholar! so love's lesson has been taught,
Warning, as usual, has gone for naught.
PIERROT
Had all my schooling been of this soft kind,
To play the truant I were less inclined.
Teach me again! I am a sorry dunce--
I never knew a task by conning once.
THE LADY
Then come with me! below this pleasant shrine
Of Venus we will presently recline,
Until birds' twitter beckon me away
To mine own home, beyond the milky-way.
I will instruct thee, for I deem as yet
Of Love thou knowest but the alphabet.
PIERROT
In its sweet grammar I shall grow most wise,
If all its rules be written in thine eyes.
[_The lady sits upon a step of the temple, And Pierrot leans upon his elbow
at her feet, regarding her._]
PIERROT
Sweet contemplation! how my senses yearn
To be thy scholar always, always learn.
Hold not so high from me thy radiant mouth,
Fragrant with all the spices of the South;
Nor turn, O sweet! thy golden face away,
For with it goes the light of all my day.
Let me peruse it, till I know by rote
Each line of it, like music, note by note;
Raise thy long lashes, Lady! smile again:
These studies profit me.
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