(M. H.)

When you were born, my dear, when you were born, A glorious Voice came singing from the sun, An Ariel with roses of the morn, And through the vales of Arcady danced one All golden as the corn.

These were the happy couriers of God, Bearing your gifts: a magic all your own, And Beauty with her tall divining rod; While tiny star-smiths, bending to your throne, Your feet with summer shod.

Into my heart, my dear, you flashed your way, Your rosy, golden way: a fairy horn Proclaimed you dancing light and roundelay;-- I thank my generous Fates that you were born One lofty joyous day.