Page:Poems and ballads (IA balladspoems00swinrich).pdf/163

iii.

Thou whose rootless

Flower is fruitless
As the pride its heart encloses,
But thine eyes are
As May skies are,
And thy words like spoken roses;

iv.

Thou whose grace is

In men's faces
Fierce and wayward as thy will is;
Thou whose peerless
Eyes are tearless,
And thy thoughts as cold sweet lilies;

v.

Thou that takest

Hearts and makest