Dipped in Romance’s cup for the praises of men,
Who value this maid in the coarse homespun gown
Something less than the prettiest girl in the town.
You must all have watched the calm light of her eyes,
And ethereal figure with heavy drawn sighs;
Pondered often in secret of some magic gift
To win you this face—so like a snowdrift—
I would whisper a secret: On Valentine’s day,
With Cupid commune in a sly, cunning way,
Else only in dreams she is thine; for a crown