Lovers’ Song, Federico Andreotti (1876)
Night is so young and love has just begun
Sit here my fair lady while I perform
Singing soft words to make our love burgeon
With the desire to create a firestorm
Rose thou holds place gently beneath thy nose
To my heart an image of what thou art
Thou sweeter and softer than any rose
This feeling in my heart shall never part
Bow glides slowly across my violin
Like the summer wind through thy angel hair
To rest my bow and touch thy tender skin
Thy pure beauty knowing none that compare
The candle has now become very short
Come my love and gently retire with me
To a dreamland thy heart I will transport
Singing a lovers’ song written for thee
A Classical Beauty, Leon Comerre (1880)
Girl with Flaxen Hair
Standing before me, I tried not to stare
A living Greek goddess, with skin so fair
Eyes of sparkling jewels, extremely rare
Such beauty, more than any heart could bear
Angelic words she spoke, I never heard
Captivated by redness of her lips
Every thought at once was totally blurred
As from her goblet she took supple sips
My ailing heart she gave a coup de gras
Tossing her lengthy hair from her shoulder
As if she was throwing gold dust afar
Fire in the heart now began to smolder
Now is known that I never had a chance
Girl with flaxen hair to start a romance
The Farewell, James Tissot (1871)
This iron fence may as well be my cell
Cannot get closer to you if I may
Dare not to think this may be our farewell
Given but a single choice here I’d stay
The night’s wispy breeze has carried your scent
Of a new blossomed rose in early June
Not to get closer causes me torment
Such a distance like I am on the moon
Come closer so my hungry lips may touch
Silky softness made in heaven above
Come closer that your body I may clutch
To whisper words to you of my great love
Eternity will pass ’til the morrow
Till then my heart will be filled with sorrow
Le Suicide, Edouard Manet (1877)
Is true to what I have really done
Desire to rid myself of misery
Lying here still bleeding holding a gun
In death thinking I’d be totally free
There is torture in the time that remains
Bed continues to hold her luscious scent
My sick heart shackled in her mighty chains
Absent her savage kiss I now lament
I’m afraid now to close these heavy eyes
In her full beauty she shall reappear
Knowing she is the devil in disguise
To guide me straight to hell is what I fear
It is love that caused the hellish nightmare
And life only comes with a one way fare
Elizabeth Jane Gardner, After the Engagement (c. 1882)
Woman in My Life, Robert A Sieczkiewicz
You’re the sunshine that greets me every day
Your soft smile puts one on my yawning face
Your eyes so bright a message they convey
Your lips many kisses on mine do place
Your first embrace steadies my wobbly feet
You are the sweetness in my morning cup
Your touch is the first I desire to meet
You are the one that makes my heart gallop
Your love gives to me such warming comfort
Your strength to pick me up when I am down
You give me special joy the way you flirt
You do all of this still in a nightgown
You are the one who truly made my life
Each morning I give thanks you are my wife
A Game of Croquet, Winslow Homer (1866)
Game of Croquet, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
This day in May two ladies are to play,
Croquet, artful game of skill and daring.
Player strategies employed as they may,
Often what combatants are wagering.
On the field of gentle green are two friends,
Been that way since they can’t remember when.
If differences always made amends,
Even when it was a matter of men.
Today two hungry hearts enter the fray.
This vital match will allow tight croquet.
Fighting for his love only one will stay.
Now each sees the other as vicious prey.
Though daggers fly the match is very tight,
Then it happens, her ball flies out of sight.
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In Croquet the term “tight croquet” allows the foot to be placed on your ball so that whacking your opponent’s ball will send it into the bushes while yours remains in position. We can see below that the gentleman is setting up the ball so the lady in red can send the lady in blue into the woods so she alone can claim her trophy.
A Gust of Wind, John Singer Sargent (1887)
A Gust of Wind, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
You stand against a cerulean sky.
Flying against you wishing I could stop.
Did you feel a kiss which I did apply?
An easy target standing on hilltop.
Is my solemn desire to have you stay.
To let me repeatedly come your way.
Next to make your summer hat go astray,
Your hair now free to touch it as I may.
Being with you is my greatest delight.
To whirl closely around you in my flight,
But will abstain for fear to cause you fright.
O to forev’r be with you is my plight.
For to ev’r stop I would fail to exist,
But would be happy for your lips I kissed.