NANCY

You are a rose, but set with sharpest spine;

You are a pretty bird that pecks at me;

You are a little squirrel on a tree,

Pelting me with the prickly fruit of the pine;

A diamond, torn from a crystal mine,

Not like that milky treasure of the sea

A smooth, translucent pearl, but skilfully

Carven to cut, and faceted to shine.

If you are flame, it dances and burns blue;

If you are light, it pierces like a star

Intenser than a needlepoint of ice.

The dexterous touch that shaped the soul of you,

Mingled, to mix, and make you what you are,

Magic between the sugar and the spice.