A Lover’s Envy – Henry Van Dyke

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I envy every flower that blows

Along the meadow 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 even time,

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. ~ A Lover’s Envy – Henry Van Dyke