Nature has made my mind a mint,
My thoughts are coins, on which I live;
The dies, with which I stamp my thoughts,
Trees, blossoms, birds, and children give.

Sometimes my die's a homeless man,
Or babes that have no milk and perish;
Sometimes it is a lady fair,
Whose grace and loveliness I relish.

But all my love-thoughts, until now,
Were false to utter, and must cease;
And not another coin must pass
Without your image on each piece.

So, you shall be my queen from now,
Your face on every thought I utter;
And I'll be rich - although the world
May judge my metal's worth no better.