O gentle soul, thou art a blossom fair, A tender bud in springtime’s sweet emce, Thy presence doth perfume the very air, And bids my heart with joy to leap and race. Mayhap the stars above do wink and say, “Here dwells a creature wrought of purest cheer!” So prithee, smile upon this blessèd day, For thou art dear, and all the world is near.

al48q7