How could I tell, so unaware,
That it was all for you
The suns shed gold upon my hair,
And all the lost leaves shadowed there,
And deeps of far star-lighted air
Left in my eyes their blue?
But now I know that I am fair,
For you!

Oh, never doubt that whatsoe'er
Of beautiful for you
My mother April lets me wear,
Summer shall make it richer fair
For kindly Frost to see — and spare,
Till lover's charm renew.
Nay, Earth will heed the little prayer! —