ON THE GARLAND SENT TO RHODOCLEIA — RUFINUS

‘ Ah, Golden Eyes, to win you yet,

I bring mine April coronet,

The lovely blossoms of the spring,

For you I weave, to you I bring

These roses with the lilies set,

The dewy dark-eyed violet,

Narcissus, and the wind-flower wet:

Wilt thou disdain mine offering?

Ah, Golden Eyes!

Crowned with thy lover's flowers, forget

The pride wherein thy heart is set,

For thou, like these or anything,

Has but a moment of thy spring,

Thy spring, and then — the long regret!

Ah, Golden Eyes!’