She is not fair to other eyes--
No poet's dream is she,
Nor artist's inspiration, yet
I would not have her be.
She wanders not through princely halls,
A crown upon her hair;
Her heart awaits a single king
Because she is not fair.
Dear lips, your half-shy tenderness
Seems far too much to win!
Yet, has your heart a tiny door
Where I may peep within?
That voiceless chamber, dim and sweet,
I pray may be my own.
Dear little Love, may I come in
And make you mine alone?
She is not fair to other eyes--
I would not have it so;
She needs no further charm or grace
Or aught wealth may bestow;
For when the love light shines and makes
Her dear face glorified--
Ah Sweetheart! queens may come and go
And all the world beside.