OU ask me why I love her;
Not a charm can you discover!
Would you
The heart that a shut rose is,
And whose beauty ne'er
Save for me?
She is not rich or clever,
But her speeches thrill me ever,
And with
My heart her whisper flutters,
Though the wisest word she
Is a kiss.
All evil things have shunned her,
And with a wide-eyed
Is she tasked,
What lavish god has
In her earth so much of
All unasked?
She has no gifts or graces,
But the gladness in her face
Sought of kings;
She cannot chant a measure,
But her heart with a grave
Ever sings.
Her gown is of the
But the hem is soiled the slightest:
Little worth,
She has no wings to fly with,
And she prefers to hie
Me on earth.
There is no hint of
Or glimpse of deep thought
In her eyes;
She is warm and she is human,
Just a weak and wilful woman —Not too wise.
Her thousand beauties singing,
I have not said how
Are her arms;
But, not loved and not the
Dare you ever hope
Half her charms?
