Helen Maria Williams

I

No riches from his scanty store
My lover could impart;
He gave a boon I valued more —
He gave me all his heart!

II

What crowding thoughts around me wake,
What marvels in a Christmas-cake!
Ah say, what strange enchantment dwells
Enclosed within its odorous cells?
Is there no small magician bound
Encrusted in its snowy round?
For magic surely lurks in this,
A cake that tells of vanished bliss;