The New Day. Part 1. 2. Sonnet (I like her gentle hand that sometimes strays)
(AFTER THE ITALIAN)
I like her gentle hand that sometimes strays,
To find the place, through the same book with mine;
I like her feet; and O, those eyes divine!
And when we say farewell, perhaps she stays
Love-lingering—then hurries on her ways,
As if she thought, "To end my pain and thine."
I like her voice better than new-made wine;
I like the mandolin whereon she plays.
And I like, too, the cloak I saw her wear,
And the red scarf that her white neck doth cover,
And well I like the door that she comes through;
I like the riband that doth bind her hair—
But then, in truth, I am that lady's lover,
And every new day there is something new.
