TO MY ONLY LOVE.

THY quaint old dress is fair, my love,

Thy jewels worthy of a queen,

From deepest green below, above,

There glints of brightest gold the sheen.

Thy brows are sable as the night,

Thy face is as the lily pale :

"A fantasie in black and white,"

Would'st thou be called in painter's tale.

Thy words, brimful of richest lore,

Shall dwell for ever in my heart;

Come weal or woe, by sea or shore,

Thou'lt faithful be till death us part.

Thy sisters too are trusty friends,

They smile at me from many a nook;

But still, until life's story ends,

I'll cherish thee, my faithful book.

FEZ.