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The Merchant, to Secure His Treasure The merchant, to secure his treasure, Conveys it in a borrowed name: Euphelia serves to grace my measure, But Cloe is my real flame. My softest verse, my darling lyre Upon Euphelia's toilet lay - When Cloe noted her desire That I should sing, that I should play. My lyre I tune, my voice I raise, But with my numbers mix my sighs; And whilst I sing Euphelia's praise, I fix my soul on Cloe's eyes. Fair Cloe blushed; Euphelia frowned: I sung, and gazed; I played, and trembled: And Venus to the Loves around Remarked how ill we all dissembled. Edgar Allan Poe		Friday Apr 19, 2024
		Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969

	Alfred Austin
	Alfred Austin (May 3, 1835 - June 2, 1913) was an English poet, who was appointed Poet Laureate in 1896 upon the death of Tennyson. Read More

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