From the Greek by Andrew Lang AH, Golden Eyes, to win you yet, I bring mine April coronet, The lovely blossoms of the spring, For you I weave, to you I bring: These roses with the lilies wet, The dewy dark-eyed violet, Narcissus, and the wind-flower wet. Wilt thou disdain mine offering, Ah, Golden Eyes? Crowned with thy lover’s flowers, forget The pride wherein thy heart is set, For thou, like these or anything, Hast but thine hour of blossoming, Thy spring, and then—the long regret, Ah, Golden Eyes!
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IV. Wooing and Winning