how soft are magnolia petals on my lips,
how sweet is their perfume, their taste,
i would break the bottle of its perfume
once, twice, a thousand times
the precious oil on your feet --
like magnolias i suppose,
white and fragrant, flower-sweet
and dry them with my hair...
i sighed a sigh only mary herself could hear
as i put magnolia petals to my lips,
and sadly blushed behind my hair
(the hair i'll never dry them with.)