O, I would deem my lot divine.
Though forced to leave my native shore;
If I were yours-and you were mine,
To part no more.

For you to me are more than land –
My flow’rs of flow’rs, my harp in tune,
My mine of gold, my jewels, and
My sun and moon!

O, I would deem my lot divine,
Though doomed to life-long servitude;
If I were yours, if you were mine –
I would – I would!

Work would be joy, and pain be bliss,
And crosses sweet for sake of you;
I’d have, in one soul-stirring kiss,
More than my due.

O, I would deem my lot divine,
Though failed by friends and all the rest;
If I were yours – if you were mine,
In one wee nest.

For what to me were wealth and wine,
And home and friends, and power and place,
Were I not yours – were you not mine? –
My flower of grace.