YOU ask me, sweetheart, to avow What charm in you I most adore, But how can I discriminate From your innumerable store. Yet 'tis not all you really are, Nor yet what I might wish to see, But an ideal far above I worship -- what you wish to be. 'Then pray,' you answer, 'tell me now What 'tis I most desire to be.' Dear heart, your fondest dreams aspire To be -- just what you are to me. |