| She is my little lady,
Her worth is faery gold. I give her the devotion Of any knight of old. A stainless little lily, A shy, wee rose is she ___ So like the tender flowers Is Betty Lee. She is my liege, my lady; I kiss her tiny hands And though her black eyes wonder Her child-heart understands That truest love is humblest, And mine would bend the knee Low in the very presence Of Betty Lee. God give you grace, my lady, And beautiful, long years, With much of life's dear laughter And little of its tears. And this shall be my comfort When Fate makes mock of me: "There's still my dear, liege lady, My Betty Lee." |
The Call of Kansas and Other Poems
Esther M. (Clark) Hill
(Cedar Rapids: Torch Press. __)
Page 51
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