What thou art to me may I gladly
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shout and proclaim to thee most well?
Thou art to me a high-born lady
of style whereof I'd love to tell,
a princess that's sage and lovely—
whose mind is like a pleasant dell.
Thou art to me a raven-haired
of graciousness that's never seen.
Thou art the friend that boldly dared
to be the one and hopeful Queen,
a source of ruth who cried and shared
her tears through eyes of limpid green.
Thou art to me a fresh new start,
a renaissance of hope that's true:—
God's gift of grace to my sinful heart
and to my shame that I so rue;
thou art thus the most blessèd part
of faith and joy that now ensue.
"To have the soul of a poet is to feel with the mind, and to think with the heart."