She's fair and good, they say.
Hen. But not as you.
Her princess feet like well the solid earth.
She is a flower that sips of sun and dew.
But feedeth most from root-cups firm in ground;
While you are made of music, love, and air,—
A being of the sky—a lover's star,
Although he be a king. The grace of heaven
About your beauty plays, and drops as soft
Upon my eyes as light from the lark's wing.