A Man's Praise Of His Wife

My path forth from the east gate lay,

  Where cloud-like moved the girls at play.

  Numerous are they, as clouds so bright,

  But not on them my heart's thoughts light.

  Dressed in a thin white silk, with coiffure gray

  Is she, my wife, my joy in life's low way.

  Forth by the covering wall's high tower,

  I went, and saw, like rush in flower,

  Each flaunting girl. Brilliant are they,

  But not with them my heart's thoughts stay.

  In thin white silk, with head-dress madder-dyed,

  Is she, my sole delight, 'foretime my bride.