Only one glad little glance that I gave,
Where by the window the passion-flower grew,
And a strong man was turn'd into a slave,
Watching and waiting for all that I do.

And a strong man's heart beat only for me--
Only for me while it answers life's call;
Till _I_ was compell'd to hear and to see;
And only one little look did it all!

Oh, such an infinitesimal thing!
One unthought-of minute hurrying by,
And the whole of two lives yet in their spring
Are utterly chang'd for ever and aye!

If with idle heart and with careless eyes
I had not happened just there and just then
To smile at a flower beneath the skies,
Should I never have lov'd the first of men?

Had he seen me first in a festal hour,
Or riding, or driving, or by the sea,
And not with a smile for the passion-flower,
Would he never, never have cared for me?

Who planted the root, and its climbing plann'd?
Who water'd below or cherish'd above?
Is it the work of a gardener's hand
That causes my Harry and me to love?