And you should see, should hear, be glad and smile
That I so love you. Ah, but all the while
I may not show nor teach
Save through my paupered speech!

Beggar in guise, who am so rich at heart
Where you have set your pure white shrine apart
And keep your cherished state
Dear and immaculate,

How should you know or hear me, when my tongue
Turns a dull rebel and doth ready wrong
To thoughts my dreams repeat?--
Perhaps too proud, too sweet!


THE SONG OF HER

Thou art my singing and my voice,
Thy life the thing that I would sing,
Perfect past words of perfect choice,
A lovely and a lasting thing.
In every deed of thine, sweetheart,
The poetry of heaven has part
Beyond the gamut of all art,
Leaving me mute and marvelling.

Thy deeds like rhymes I have by heart,
Thy happy deeds of heavenly choice,