TO ANAEL NUIT, MY GODDAUGHTER

I give to you this little purse
      Alone with this, my humble verse.
I have so little to you to give,
      But hope some day while yet I live
I come into prosperity -
      So that money's no longer a rarity.
Then I shall send you presents galore -
      Dresses and bonnets of softest valours,
Diamonds and jewels and all pretty things,
      Bracelets, a necklace, and sparkling rings!
There'll be baubles and bangles and all kind
         of toys,
      But, goddaughter dear - you'll have to
         find your own boys.
O the day that I'm rich will be happy for us!
      Birthdays will be joyous without any fuss!
But now, I'm afraid, my goddaughter dear,
      I'm poor once again on this your sixth
         year.
I have little but shelter and food to my name
      While around the world that name gains
         fame.
And so on this birthday, dear Anael Nuit,
      I have little to give - and O how I rue it.
I want to give you the heavens above,
      But all that I have is my sweetest love.
I've placed it within this little purse,
      And given it form in my humble verse.