O lovely maiden of the peachbloom face,
    So artless in your morning mirthfulness,
O maiden tripping in unstudied grace,
    This weary world to beautify and bless;

You bring strange memories to my callous heart,
    Forgotten fancies from forsaken years,
Old joys, that long ago I saw depart
    Amid the hazes of regretful tears.

You bring to mind those dear departed Springs,
    Those Summers that vanished evermore,
A halcyon youth, whose head and feet had wings
    In lost rose gardens of the years of yore.

You bring to mind the days of dead romance,
    When my young heart was like a dewy flower,
When song and story centered in a glance,
    And pain was but a passing April shower.

How all has changed! The fairy stories close,
    The fields are faded, dull the skies above;
The life that once was poetry, is prose;
    None seek me now to bring me gifts of love.

I do not wonder as I gaze at thee,
    How Helen thrilled the nations far and wide,
How Cleopatra weaved her witchery,
    Till heroes for her glory bled and died.

For such as you were leveled walls of Troy,
    And Actium's ships were wrapped in sheeted flame,
With fire and sword were ravaged realms of joy,
    Leaving great cities but a storied name.

So then, remember that thy subtle power
    Is like a magic sceptre in thy hands,
To rear to God upon a rock a tower,
    Or scatter hopes like houses built on sands.

So, when the One of All shall come to woo,
    Remember thou canst make him or canst mar,
His love in ashes and in dust to strew,
    Or fix his aspirations on a star.

Within thy heart, ere youth has flitted by,
    Let Love, the Rose, its blossoms never cease,
Beneath it place the Violet, Modesty,
    And high above them all the Lily, Peace.

Amid the blessings that to thee are given,
    Let Self upon thy shrine be sacrificed,
Becoming then the blessed bride of Heaven,
    Daughter of God, and sister unto Christ.