COME TO ME WITH EMPTY HANDS

Come to me with empty hands, denuded Of glitt'ring things the world would recognize. Carry no baubles, trinkets worth a ransom

That shout to housetops, "She's my loved prize."

Bring me, instead, the eyes

Brim full of kindness,

Telling me daily

Where thy love doth hide.

Bring me the lips

That smile away my sadness.

And tell, again,

Of love's sojourn inside.

Tell only me the secret of thy loving,

'Tis a bright-eyed secret we two share.

I need no other prize but thee, my darling.

As for the world-it does not know-nor care.

one

Jacqueline Lawson

24