A Woman's Love / Arthur Conan Doyle

I am not blind — I understand;
 I see him loyal, good, and wise,
 I feel decision in his hand,
 I read his honour in his eyes.
 Manliest among men is he
 With every gift and grace to clothe him;
 He never loved a girl but me 
— And I — I loathe him! — loathe him! 
The other! Ah! I value him Precisely at his proper rate,
 A creature of caprice and whim,
 Unstable, weak, importunate.
 His thoughts are set on paltry gain
 — You only tell me what I see 
— I know him selfish, cold and vain;
 But, oh! he's all the world to me!