If 'twere fair to suppose
  That your heart were not taken,
That the dew from the rose
  Petals still were not shaken,
I should pluck you,
  Howe'er you should thorn me and scorn me,
And wear you for life as the green of the bower.
If 'twere fair to suppose
  That that road was for vagrants,
That the wind and the rose,
  Counted all in their fragrance;
Oh, my dear one,
  By love, I should take you and make you,
The green of my life from the scintillant hour.

This work was published before January 1, 1925, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.