Add such rounded beauty as is meet,
Wrap me in the graces all your tendrils wreathing;
For he loves me, and I would be fair.
“O sunshine, playing with the swinging vine,
Sift your gold through all my dusky hair,
Gild each braid and ringlet with a softened glimmer,
Hint the crown his love has rendered mine.
Than the brightest eyes, oh! let not mine be dimmer;
For he loves me, and I would be fair.
“O lilies! in a drift of scented snow,