Page:Poems and ballads (IA balladspoems00swinrich).pdf/163

 Thou whose rootless Flower is fruitless As the pride its heart encloses, But thine eyes are As May skies are, And thy words like spoken roses;

Thou whose grace is In men's faces Fierce and wayward as thy will is; Thou whose peerless Eyes are tearless, And thy thoughts as cold sweet lilies;

Thou that takest Hearts and makest