It was in my heart to give her wine and dainties,
silken gowns, furs against the wind;
a woolen scarf,
coffee and bread was all that I could buy:
It is enough, she said.

It was in my heart to show her foreign lands,
at least the fields beyond the city:
I could not pay our way;
when she would see a row of street-lamps shining,
How beautiful, she would say.