Love song

The sweetest flower of latter spring, That only breathes the breath of May; The prettiest finch on painted wing, By dropping acorn scared away,— My Love is fair and shy as they.

A bashful violet of a maid, She trembles at a gust of care; But then she’s fairest when afraid, Her blue eyes look up in a prayer,— My little Love is good as fair.

Once I came back: she sat alone, Past midnight, in a dusky room; On face and hair the firelight shone— Ah, happy me! when through the gloom I heard her sigh, and knew for whom.

Smiling that night, and crown’d with flowers, All eyes but mine my Love had seen; I knew the music of those hours Was witching, but my little Queen Had sigh’d for me, her smiles between.

I care not if her face be cut To shape of artists’ fantasies; The light of it is nameless, but Fills all my dreams, and when I rise I follow it to my Love’s blue eyes.