No jewelled Beauty is my Love,
Yet in her earnest face
There’s such a world of tenderness,
She needs no other grace.
Her smiles, and voice, around my life
In light and music twine,
And dear, oh very dear to me,
Is this sweet Love of mine.
Oh, joy! to know there’s one fond
heart
Beats ever true to me:
It sets mine leaping like a lyre,
In sweetest melody;
My soul up-springs, a Deity!
To hear her voice divine,
And dear, oh! very dear to me,
Is this sweet Love of mine.
If ever I have sigh’d for wealth,
’Twas all for her, I
trow;
And if I win Fame’s victor-wreath,
I’ll twine it on her
brow.
There may be forms more beautiful,
And souls of sunnier shine,
But none, oh! none so dear to me,
As this sweet Love of mine.
