Classic Poem

Sometimes I see the girl within thine eyes;
Sometimes the woman there
Is manifest. So April's tender skies
Predict June's perfect air.

I sometimes mark, thee watching (and my days
Are spent in watching thee)
Thy perfect woman-face. I seem to gaze
On what shall surely be.

I seem to see the woman full of power,—
No more the girl most sweet,
But the magnificent and perfect flower.
I fall before thy feet

Thee worshipping with wonder and with awe,
For years will further grace
And perfect what is now without a flaw,
Thy royal young pure face.