To Lizbie Browne

I     Dear Lizbie Browne,     Where are you now?     In sun, in rain? -     Or is your brow     Past joy, past pain,     Dear Lizbie Browne? II     Sweet Lizbie Browne     How you could smile,     How you could sing! -     How archly wile     In glance-giving,     Sweet Lizbie Browne! III     And, Lizbie Browne,     Who else had hair     Bay-red as yours,     Or flesh so fair     Bred out of doors,     Sweet Lizbie Browne? IV     When, Lizbie Browne,     You had just begun     To be endeared     By stealth to one,     You disappeared     My Lizbie Browne! V     Ay, Lizbie Browne,     So swift your life,     And mine so slow,     You were a wife     Ere I could show     Love, Lizbie Browne. VI     Still, Lizbie Browne,     You won, they said,     The best of men     When you were wed . . .     Where went you then,     O Lizbie Browne? VII     Dear Lizbie Browne,     I should have thought,     "Girls ripen fast,"     And coaxed and caught     You ere you passed,     Dear Lizbie Browne! VIII     But, Lizbie Browne,     I let you slip;     Shaped not a sign;     Touched never your lip     With lip of mine,     Lost Lizbie Browne! IX     So, Lizbie Browne,     When on a day     Men speak of me     As not, you'll say,     "And who was he?" -     Yes, Lizbie Browne!