Beauty beyond all glass's mirroring,
And dream and glory hers for garmenting;
Her birth--O Lady, wilt thou say me nay?--
Of thine own womb, of thine own nurturing--
Send me a maiden meet for love, I pray!
ENVOI
Sweet Queen who sittest at the heart of spring,
My life is thine, barren or blossoming;
'Tis thine to flush it gold or leave it grey:
And so unto thy garment's hem I cling--
Send me a maiden meet for love, I pray.
(_January_ 13, 1888.)
WITH SOME OLD LOVE VERSES
Dear Heart, this is my book of boyish song,
The changing story of the wandering quest
That found at last its ending in thy breast--
The love it sought and sang astray so long
With wild young heart and happy eager tongue.
Much meant it all to me to seek and sing,
Ah, Love, but how much more to-day to bring
This 'rhyme that first of all he made when young.'
Take it and love it, 'tis the prophecy
For whose poor silver thou hast given me gold;
Yea! those old faces for an hour seemed fair
Only because some hints of Thee they were:
Judge then, if I so loved weak types of old,
How good, dear Heart, the perfect gift of Thee.
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