Give me but a tearing,
A scrap of Beauty's cloth,
Warm from her wearing;
A song, a shell, a moth,
Still faintly fragrant;
Her glove, her torn veil,
And I will find vagrant
Beauty's trail.

A blue glimpse of ocean
At end of a lane;
A long-hid devotion
For other's gain;
Some scarf that charmed her,
Once round her worn —
Anything that warmed her,
Though now torn.

Give me her shaded laughter
Where bright colors blend
And I will follow after
To the trail's end.
I will be finding,
Lost for awhile,
Beauty of the blinding,
Rewarding smile.