Is and Was

She was whiter than the ermine
That half shadowed neck and hand,
And her tresses were more golden

Than their golden band;
Snowy ostrich plumes she wore;
Yet I almost loved her more
In the simple time before.

Then she plucked the stately lilies
Knowing not she was more fair,
And she listened to the skylark

In the morning air.
Then, a kerchief all her crown,
She looked for the acorns brown,
Bent their bough, and shook them down.

Then she thought of Christmas holly
And of Maybloom in sweet May;
Then she loved to pick the cherries

And to turn the hay.
She was humble then and meek.
And the blush upon her cheek
Told of much she could not speak.

Now she is a noble lady
With calm voice not over loud;
Very courteous in her action,
Yet you think her proud;
Much too haughty to affect;
Too indifferent to direct
Or be angry or suspect;
Doing all from self-respect.