I have four noble lovers,
Young and gallant, blithe and gay,
And in all the land no maiden
Hath a goodlier troupe than they!
And never princess, guarded
By knights of high degree,
Knew sweeter, purer homage
Than my lovers pay to me!
One of my noble lovers
Is a self-poised, thoughtful man,
Gravely gay, serenely earnest,
Strong to do, and bold to plan.
And one is sweet and sunny,
Pure as crystal, true as steel,
With a soul responding ever
When the truth makes high appeal.
And another of my lovers,
Bright and _debonair_ is he,
Brave and ardent, strong and tender,
And the flower of courtesie.
Last of all, an eager student,
Upon lofty aims intent:
Manly force and gentle sweetness
In his nature rarely blent.
But when of noble lovers
All alike are dear and true,
And her heart to choose refuses,
Pray, what can a woman do?
Ah, my sons! For this I bless ye,
Even as I myself am blest,
That I know not which is dearest,
That I care not which is best!