  ——— I do not know the ocean’s song, Or what the brooklets say; At eve I sit and listen long, I cannot learn their lay. But as I linger by the sea, And that sweet song comes unto me, It seems, my love, it sings of thee. I do not know why poppies grow, Amid the wheat and rye, The lillies bloom as white as snow, I cannot tell you why. But all the flowers of the spring, The bees that hum, the birds that sing, A thought of you they seem to bring. I cannot tell why silvery Mars, Moves through the heav’ns at night; I cannot tell you why the stars, Adorn the vault with light. But what sublimity I see, Upon the mount, the hill, the lea, It brings, my love, a thought of thee. I do not know what in your eyes, That caused my heart to glow, And why my spirit longs and cries, I vow, I do not know. But when you first came in my sight, My slumbering soul awoke in light, And since the day I’ve known no night. |
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