Madison Cawein - The Quarrel lyrics

Could I divine how her gray eyes Gat such cold haughtiness of skies; How, some wood-flower's shadow brown, Dimmed her fair forehead's wrath a frown; How, rippled sunshine blown thro' air, Tossed scorn her eloquence of hair; How to a folded bud again She drew her blossomed lips' disdain; Naught deigning save eyes' utterance, Star-words, which quicker reach the sense; Then, afterwards, how melted there The austere woman to one tear; Then were I wise to know how grew This star-stained miracle of blue, How God makes wild flowers out of dew.