  The thought of you has filled the night with wonder, The dawn with praise, Till all my senses thrill, like roses under The morning's rays. This love of ours has clad with new-found splendour The hills and streams, No forest glade but sighs of vast surrender, In noontide dreams, No star in heaven but grants a starry lover Some tender boon, No drifting cloud but longs to clasp and cover His lady Moon. No song of bird that is not song of mating, In sylvan shade, No sigh of wind that is not sigh of waiting For bliss delayed. The world itself a garden, where we wander 'Mid passion flowers, Or pause to kiss a while, and fondly ponder This joy of ours. |
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