Classic Poem

If I could choose my paradise,
—And please myself with choice of bliss,
Then I would have your soft blue eyes
—And rosy little mouth to kiss!
Your lips, as smooth and tender, child,
As rose-leaves in a coppice wild.

If fate bade choose some sweet unrest,
—To weave my troubled life a snare,
Then I would say “her maiden breast
—And golden ripple of her hair”;
And weep amid those tresses, child,
Contented to be thus beguiled.