Love at Auction

If you were sold
In the marketplace --
In the open market there,
Could I behold
Your lovely face
Or view your auburn hair,
Silver nor gold
Would I withhold
To claim you as a prize
Once I had gazed --
Flush and half-dazed --
Into your velvet eyes.

If there you stood
In the marketplace --
In the open market there,
My burning blood
Would flame your face
My eyes caress your hair.
If one of the town
Should bid me down
And you at last possess,
The heart I gave
Would still be slave
Unto your loveliness.