YOU ask me why I love her; Not a charm can you discover! Would you see The heart that a shut rose is, And whose beauty ne'er uncloses Save for me? She is not rich or clever, But her speeches thrill me ever, And with bliss My heart her whisper flutters, Though the wisest word she utters Is a kiss. All evil things have shunned her, And with a wide-eyed wonder Is she tasked, What lavish god has given In her earth so much of heaven All unasked? She has no gifts or graces, But the gladness in her face is Sought of kings; She cannot chant a measure, But her heart with a grave pleasure Ever sings. Her gown is of the whitest But the hem is soiled the slightest: Little worth, She has no wings to fly with, And she prefers to hie with Me on earth. There is no hint of heaven Or glimpse of deep thought even In her eyes; She is warm and she is human, Just a weak and wilful woman— Not too wise. Her thousand beauties singing, I have not said how clinging Are her arms; But, not loved and not the lover Dare you ever hope discover Half her charms?