My True-Love'S Wealth

My True-love hath no wealth they say; But when they do, I tell them nay,-- For she hath wealth of golden hair, Shot through with shafts from Delos' bow, That shines about her shoulders rare, Like sunlight on new driven snow.

My True-love hath no wealth they say; But when they do, I tell them nay,-- For she hath eyes so soft and bright, So deep the light that in them lies, That stars in heaven would lose their light Ashine beside my True-love's eyes.

My True-love hath no wealth they say; But when they do, I tell them nay,-- For oh! she hath such dainty hands, So snowy white, so fine and small, That had I wealth of Ophir's lands, For one of them I 'd give it all.

My True-love hath no wealth they say; But when they do, I tell them nay,-- For oh! she hath a face so fair, Such winsome light about it plays, For worldly wealth I nothing care, So I can look upon her face.

My True-love hath no wealth they say; But when they do, I tell them nay,-- For endless wealth of mind hath she, Her heart so stored with precious lore-- Her riches they as countless be As shells upon the ocean's shore.

My True-love hath no wealth they say; But when they do, I tell them nay,-- The wild-brier bough hath less of grace And on wild violets when she treads They turn to look into her face And scarcely bow their azure heads.

My True-love hath no wealth they say; But when they do, I tell them nay,-- For oh! she hath herself, in fee, And this is more than worlds to me.