Golden Eyes
‘AH, Golden Eyes, to win you yet,I bring mine April coronet,The lovely blossoms of the spring,For you I weave, to you I bringThese roses with the lilies set,The dewy dark-eyed violet,Narcissus, and the wind-flower wet:Wilt thou disdain mine offering?Ah, Golden Eyes!
Crowned with thy lover’s flowers, forgetThe pride wherein thy heart is set,For thou, like these or anything,Has but a moment of thy spring,Thy spring, and then—the long regret!Ah, Golden Eyes!’