Since I have given thee, Oh, Gift of Gifts!—
The pale perfection of unrivalled beauty.
Though in my Firmament thou wilt not shine
Talk not, my Lord, of unrequited love,
Since love requites itself most royally.
Do we not live but by the sun above,
And takes he any heed of thee or me?
Though in my firmament thou wilt not shine,
Thy glory, as a Star, is none the less.
Oh, Rose, though all unplucked by hand of mine,