Ask what you will, I must obey your hest!
Thus much, my lady-bird, seems manifest
To you and me, who well each other know;
What you, small tyrant, beg, I must bestow.
Come; falter not, but proffer your request!
Is it the flower I wear here on my breast?
My favorite nag? The book I love the best?
Some dainty gown? Some brooch or necklace?
Ask what you will!
See how the sun, down-sinking to his rest,
Gilds with his glory all the roseate west!
I linger on, in life's chill afterglow.
Nay; smile, beloved!—like your mother—so!
Stay but a moment! Now—my own! my blest!
Ask what you will.