On his dear feet, outstretched and bare;
Unconscious how, she wiped them quickly
With the long ringlets of her hair.
And richly fall those raven tresses
Adown her cheek, like willow leaves,
As stooping still, with fond caresses,
She plies her task of love, and grieves.
Oh may we thus, like loving Mary,
Ever our choicest offerings bring,
Nor grudging of our toil, nor chary