With sweet perfumes that come as nature wills;
By floral walks the busy bee distills
His winter store, and sweet wild songsters mass,
While in my glad young heart there is, alas,
Not room to hold the joy that bounds and thrills
When with me 'neath these boughs my lady stands.
No other time wears earth so fair a guise
As when I gaze into her dreamy eyes
And read the tale I treasure more than lands,
Or hear her softly breathe her love once more,—
But what if death should snatch her from my door?
By floral walks the busy bee distills
His winter store, and sweet wild songsters mass,
While in my glad young heart there is, alas,
Not room to hold the joy that bounds and thrills
When with me 'neath these boughs my lady stands.
No other time wears earth so fair a guise
As when I gaze into her dreamy eyes
And read the tale I treasure more than lands,
Or hear her softly breathe her love once more,—
But what if death should snatch her from my door?
THINE EYES
'Tis vain to sing the glory of thine eyes—
Those merry eyes that dance and make us glad,
Those mournful eyes that glance and make us sad,
Those liquid depths of laughter and surprise
Where every shade of sweet expression lies;
Those tearful eyes where pearly dewdrops shine,
Those sunny eyes of radiance divine,
Are more to me than aught in paradise;
For when my heart is heavy with despair
I turn away from all this world of care
Those merry eyes that dance and make us glad,
Those mournful eyes that glance and make us sad,
Those liquid depths of laughter and surprise
Where every shade of sweet expression lies;
Those tearful eyes where pearly dewdrops shine,
Those sunny eyes of radiance divine,
Are more to me than aught in paradise;
For when my heart is heavy with despair
I turn away from all this world of care
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