To My Lady
"Which of these four," the Angel said,
Will be your life-long choice,
The maiden with the kindest heart.
Or with the sweetest voice,
Or she who has the dearest form,
With every gentle grace,
Or she who shows the noblest soul
Upon the loveliest face?"
Lost in deepest thought I sat.
And viewed these maidens four.
And first chose this and then chose that,
And doubted more and more;
A kindly heart is treasure trove,
A perfect voice is rare,
A graceful form is Heaven's gift
And so is beauty rare.
The Angel laughed to see my doubt
And laid his hand on me.
He smoothed the puzzled wrinkles out,
"I'll set it right," said he,
"Each of the four you wish as mate;
Since that can not be done.
This lady saves you all debate.
By being all in one."