Yea, Let Me Be 'Thy Bachelere,' 'Tis Sweeter Than Thy Lord; How Should I Envy Him, My Dear, The Lamp Upon His Board. Still Make His Little Circle Bright With Boon Of Dear Domestic Light, While I Afar, Watching His Windows In The Night, Worship A Star For Which He Hath No Bolt Or Bar. Yea, Dear, Thy 'Bachelere.'