A Lover's Envy

I envy every flower that blows

Along the meadow where she goes,

 And every bird that sings to her,

 And every breeze that brings to her

    The fragrance of the rose.

I envy every poet's rhyme

That moves her heart at eventime,

  And every tree that wears for her

  Its brightest bloom, and bears for her

    The fruitage of its prime.

I envy every Southern night

That paves her path with moonbeams white,

  And silvers all the leaves for her,

  And in their shadow weaves for her

    A dream of dear delight.

I envy none whose love requires

Of her a gift, a task that tires:

  I only long to live to her,

  I only ask to give to her

    All that her heart desires.