Lyrical Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Close as the stars along the sky
The flowers were in the mead,
The purple heart, and golden eye,
And crimson-flaming weed:—
And each one sigh'd as I went by,
And touch'd my garment green,
And bade me wear her on my heart
And take her for my Queen
Of Love,—
And take her for my Queen.

And one in virgin white was drest
With lowly gracious head;
And one unveil'd a burning breast
With Love's own ardour red:

All rainbow bright, with laughter light,
They flicker'd o'er the green,
Each whispering I should pluck her there
And take her as my Queen
Of Love,—
And take her as my Queen.

But sudden at my feet look'd up
A little star-like thing,
Pure odour in pure perfect cup,
That made my bosom sing.
'Twas not for size, nor gorgeous dyes,
But her own self, I ween,
Her own sweet self, that bade me stoop
And take her for my Queen
Of Love,—
And take her for my Queen.

Now all day long and every day
Her beauty on me grows,
And holds with stronger sweeter sway
Than lily or than rose;

And this one star outshines by far
All in the meadow green;—
And so I wear her on my heart
And take her for my Queen
Of Love,—
And take her for my Queen.