Or from a stone canst turn her smile,
Or fill my loneliness with her dear voice,
Or weave a loving garland for her hair—
Thou art my gift of God, to be my comrade here.
Next to such love as this comes friendship, and she has put an estimate of the value of a friend in these words:
Of Earth there be this store of joys and woes.
Yea, and they do make the days o’ me.
I sit me here adream that did I hold
From out the whole, but one, my dearest gift,
What then would it to be? Doth days and nights