The earth that made the rose, 
She also is thy mother, and not I. 
The flame wherewith thy maiden spirit glows 
Was lighted at no hearth that I sit by. 
I am as far below as heaven above thee. 
Were I thine angel, more I could not love thee. 

Bid me defend thee! 
Thy danger over-human strength shall lend me, 
A hand of iron and a heart of steel, 
To strike, to wound, to slay, and not to feel. 
But if you chide me, 
I am a weak, defenceless child beside thee.