If Beauty Could Let Her Love To Me Poem by Mark Heathcote

If beauty could let' her love to me
like the white buds on a magnolia tree
what a nature in my soul there would be
what a freedom in my breast for thee
could I, in truth, set wing flung free?

If love were just an olive branch
what bodice of joy would there be
no chaste hearts lost-romance
no heaven for a wondering, bee
not for the likes my-love-for thee.

If beauty were plentiful in every cup
if every face wore a star's makeup
how miserable it all would seem;
how much like an empty dream
clouds in their thunder would-ream.