Gifts

by Juliana Horatia Ewing

You ask me what since we must part
You shall bring back to me.
Bring back a pure and faithful heart
As true as mine to thee.

You talk of gems from foreign lands,
Of treasure, spoil, and prize.
Ah love! I shall not search your hands
But look into your eyes.

* * *

I found this poem in a new anthology. The poet lived in the nineteenth century. I like its simplicity: simple form -- nothing unusual; simple message. It reflects that material things aren't that important; love is everything. If one has that, he wants for nothing else; and if he lacks that, nothing else will be any comfort.