<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117259" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Paris</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I knew when first I looked into her eyes,<br> And she in mine, that what has been must be,<br>And so let others say she told them lies:<br> She told no lie to me!<br>She spoke me fair, of lees as well as wine,<br> Then, with that subtlest charm of all her charms,<br>Half-dropped her languid lids, and at the sign<br> I ran into her arms!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now it is she who flings my window wide<br> At dawn, and lets the perfumed morning in,<br>And she who walks so softly at my side,<br> Through noonday’s dust and din.<br>But, most of all, ’t is she, where blue night falls,<br> Whose firm, imperious fingers tap the pane,<br>And she whose velvet voice it is that calls,<br> Nor calls her own in vain!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is as if the siren understood<br> How that she is so strong at this still hour,<br>That I could not repulse her if I would,<br> Nor would, had I the power:<br>As if she knew that, should I try to check<br> The strength of that enrapt, responsive thrill,<br>Let her but slide her arm about my neck,<br> And I obey her will!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So, when she speaks, I answer; when she woos,<br> Her voice, like wine, the slow pulse goads and spurs:<br>I go to meet her through the dropping dews,<br> And lean my lips to hers.<br>All the long hours run laughing into one—<br> The strange, sweet moment when the evening falls—<br>And, like a mother summoning her son,<br> Resistless Paris calls!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Guy+Wetmore+Carryl">Guy Wetmore Carryl</a> from <i>The Garden of Years and Other Poems</i><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117259" data-title="Paris de Guy Wetmore Carryl" data-description="I knew when first I looked into her eyes,/ And she in mine, that what has been must be,/And so let others say she told them lies:/ She told no lie to me!/She spoke me fair, of lees as well as wine,/ Then, with that subtlest charm of all her char..."></div> </div> </div>

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