English poem
Xv
by R. D. Blackmore (1825–1900)
"Vain Eve, why glory thus in Eve? What matter Tor thy form or face? Thy beauty is, if love believe Thee worthy of that treasured place Thou ne'er shalt leave.
"Oh, husband; mine and mine alone, Take back my faith that dared to wander; Forgive my joy to have thee shown Not transient, as thine image yonder, But all my own.
"And, love, if this be vain of me, This pleasure, and the pride I take; Tis only for thy dearer sake, To be so fair to thee."