Upon Graciosa, Walking And Talking

When as abroad, to greet the morn,
  I mark my Graciosa walk,
  In homage bends the whisp'ring corn,
  Yet to confess
  Its awkwardness
  Must hang its head upon the stalk.
  And when she talks, her lips do heal
  The wounds her lightest glances give:—
  In pity then be harsh, and deal
  Such wounds that I
  May hourly die,
  And, by a word restored, live.