To a maid with eyes of grey,
Deep unfathomed pools of love,
Now I send my little lay
With a prayer to Him above
That a blessing He may shed
On her well beloved head.

Thou who hast the gift of song
And the mind to sing His praise
May He guide thy steps along
And uphold thee all thy days.
His shall be my prayer for thee
Hast thou not a prayer for me?

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