Love caught his heart in a lovely surprise,

Just the first moment he looked in my eyes:

Poor little eyes! by no prescience lit,

They saw him three weeks ere I lov'd him one bit.

Fair is the book¹ where we read of a life

Born to a throne, taking love for its bliss,

Self-reproach wounding the sweet royal wife

For keeping two years he had asked for as his.

So I might suffer a sort of remorse,

Thinking of days that I cared not, yet knew;

Only, he says, ''Tis a matter of course

Girls should be woo'd and their lovers should woo.'

Only, the blossom he stoops not to touch.

Sparkling with beauty that lies at his feet;

Only, the blossom he coveteth much,

Is one that shineth as distant as sweet.

Only, a bird may fly helplessly near,

Chirping aloud in a manner too free;

Only, the bird he delighteth to hear,

Sings from the far-away top of a tree.

Is it for this he first fancied me, then?

He to whom earth her allegiance brings,

Noblest of nobles, a king among men,

Hero of heroes! a god among kings!

'Twill be very nice to be very old,

And with wrinkled brows and eyes that are dim,

To sit by the fire and in dreams behold

The face of the child that was woo'd by him.

Eve in her Eden, belov'd and preferr'd,

Sun, moon, and stars for her benefit made,

Bright as a blossom and gay as a bird,

Earth at her feet like a pleasure-ground laid;

All things about her benignant and fair—

Was she of Adam an actual part?

Love shining over her everywhere—