Wild-Wood Tree

I have no beauty, oh, my Love,
Save what is given by Thee,
Save only when Thy loving eyes
See loveliness in me.

I do not wear it every day
As other women do.
It is a light—it will not stay—
It only comes for You.

Yet I would rather have it so,
A secret thing untamed,
Than have it trapped by alien eyes
Or be too lightly named.

Love, when the sweetness of your love
Beholds a grace in me,
It is as if a golden dove
Lit in a wild-wood tree.
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