There is a garden in her eyes, where roses and white lilies flow.

Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow.

Kind are her answers, But her performance keeps no day; Breaks time, as dancers. From their own Music when they stray.

All our pride is but a jest. None are worst and none are best. Grief and hope and joy and fear Play their pageant everywhere.

Let now the chimneys blaze And cups o'erflow with wine; Let well-tuned words amaze With harmony divine.

There is a garden in her eyes, where roses and white lilies flow.

Never love unless you can bear with all the faults of man!