SURRENDER. Doubt me, my dim companion!

　　SURRENDER.

　　Doubt me, my dim companion!

　　Why, God would be content

　　With but a fraction of the love

　　Poured thee without a stint.

　　The whole of me, forever,

　　What more the woman can, --

　　Say quick, that I may dower thee

　　With last delight I own!

　　It cannot be my spirit,

　　For that was thine before;

　　I ceded all of dust I knew, --

　　What opulence the more

　　Had I, a humble maiden,

　　Whose farthest of degree

　　Was that she might,

　　Some distant heaven,

　　Dwell timidly with thee!