Part 2 — A LOVER'S ENVY

I envy every flower that blows Beside the pathway where she goes, And every bird that sings to her, And every breeze that brings to her The fragrance of the rose.

I envy every poet's rhyme That moves her heart at eventime, And every tree that wears for her Its brightest bloom, and bears for her The fruitage of its prime.

I envy every Southern night That paves her path with moonbeams white, And silvers all the leaves for her, And in their shadow weaves for her A dream of dear delight.

I envy none whose love requires Of her a gift, a task that tires: I only long to live to her, I only ask to give to her All that her heart desires.

Henry Van Dyke [1852-1933]