I liken my love to a gossamer
Afloat on the summer air,
And wish that I were the west wind,
Her form on my wings to bear;
She is so daintily delicate,
So pure, so rare.

I liken my love to a butterfly
By a bower of roses flown,
The flowers my fellows are sleeping,
And I am awake alone;
I open my petals to welcome her
To her fairy throne.

I liken my love to a hundred things
In the realm of fancy fine,
Wherein I follow and woo her
In the core of my heart to twine;
O may she peacefully nestle there,
For ever mine.