As when her babe a mother stills.
II.
Behold! for thee, and for thy love
I fain would make my spirit fair:
For this I strive; for this I strove:
My toil, though late, shall blossom bear.
Before thy face the plant shall rise,
In thy fair presence bloom and flower:
O love me! Thou art great and wise:—
Heart-greatness is the woman's dower.