A LADY, the loveliest ever the sun Looked down upon you must paint for me: Oh, if I only could make you see The clear blue eyes, the tender smile, The sovereign sweetness, the gentle grace, The woman's soul, and the angel's face That are beaming on me all the while, I need not speak these foolish words: Yet one word tells you all I would say,-- She is my mother: you will agree That all the rest may be thrown away. |