How may I earn thy love, my joy, my sweet?
I live but for thy smallest fleeting smile.
My honours all I place beneath thy feet,
And tremble at my daring all the while.
Thy silken tresses; aye, thy honey’d locks
Flow smoother on than rivers to the sea.
The yearning of my heart my thinking mocks,
That I might dare believe that thou’ld choose me.
I lose myself within thy sky-wide eyes,
Calm as a breeze or stormy as a gale;
Whenever thou art with me, my heart flies,
Winging its way o’er fountain, hill, and dale.
And tho I understand thy thinking not,
Thou lov’st me too, and thus my worth is brought.
Anita Kendall