Humility

What girl but, having gathered flowers,
Stript the beds and spoilt the bowers,
From the lapful light she carries
Drops a careless bud?--nor tarries
To regain the waif and stray:
"Store enough for home"--she'll say.

So say I too: give your lover
Heaps of loving--under, over,
Whelm him--make the one the wealthy!
Am I all so poor who--stealthy
Work it was!--picked up what fell:
Not the worst bud--who can tell?