Mignonne

^{Fourteenth Century Form}

Mignonne, whose face bends low for my caressing,
   New and unknown to-night thy beauty seemeth;
   Dimly I read thine eyes as one who dreameth.

The moonlight yester-eye fell soft in blessing,
   That coldly now across thy bright hair gleameth;
Mignonne, whose face bends low for my caressing,
   New and unknown to-night thy beauty seemeth.

As penitent, low-voiced, his sins confessing,
   Pleads where the light of the high altar streameth,
   I speak to thee, whose love my love redeemeth.
Mignonne, whose face bends low for my caressing,
   New and unknown to-night thy beauty seemeth;
   Dimly I read thine eyes as one who dreameth.