University of Virginia Library

I should have liked one tress—one—only one—
One sea-soft ripple of the black-brown hair,
One ray from off the circle of the sun,
One leaf from out a flowering forest fair,
Surely, sweet lady mine, 'twere no harm done
Of wealth so wide a mite with me to share;

One drop from out the Great Wide World of Water,
One crystal blade from fields of ether torn,
One distant dimple of a smile, O daughter,
One blush from off the crimson face of morn,
One soft sweet echo of thy low love-laughter,
One pearl-pink petal pouted from a rose,
One wingèd word of answer, silence after,
One star from all the galaxies of snows,
One look of love, one pressure of a hand,
One sparkle flashed from out an answering eye,
One grain from all the silted seas of sand,
One point of light from blue expanse of sky,
One rosy foam-flower flung from out the Ocean
Fair as Queen Venus, when she rose, new-born,
One gentle message of a hand in motion
All fraught with hopefulness for love forlorn,
One whisper of the wind on summer mornings
Waking a glad re-echo in the leaves,
One ripple of laughter rung from under awnings
Merry maidens shading on soft summer eves,
One moonbeam shining silvery o'er the billows
Amid the bewildering witchery of the night,
One delicate dream-tune played about our pillows,
One ray, one pure white shaft of morning light,
One echo of a symphony suggesting
Delicious dreams in rainbow raiments dressed,
One glimpse of hope of somewhere, sometime, resting
And sinking into sleep, and being blest,
One distant tiny tinkle of remembrance,
Preserved through all the sights and sounds of morn,
Of some fair vision, without form or semblance,
Amid the misty dim dream-valleys born,
One flame plucked off the pyre of sunset fires,
One feather fallen from out an eagle's wing,
One waft of melody seized from off the lyres
Of all the Universe of Birds that sing,
One flake of foam blown off the ocean ridges,
One rattle in the rowlocks of an oar,
One winglet waving in a mist of midges,
One shell from all the lone Atlantic shore,
One silent memory of seasons golden
When life and love went hand in hand together,
One glance a fearful follower to embolden,
One whistle of wind aloft in winter weather;
One rosy flush a fair face overflowing,
One honeysuckle-scented wave of air,
One lightning flash the landscape sudden showing,
One look, its owner only half-aware,
Right to the heart of hearts of some one going,
For him a life or death-doom to declare—

All these seem small things, lady—I ask less,
For I only ask of thee one tiny tress.