  There is a garden so divinely fair That in its magic bound, surpassing sweet, The golden buds, so Persian songs repeat, Spring forth immortal in enchanted air; But, ah, a close there is, more heavenly rare, Where, cherished warm within the heart’s retreat, Love’s whitest lilies burgeon to complete And fragrant flowering lovely past compare. O dearest friend, such lilies have I found Within my heart, undreamed-of but for thee! Nor any fabled buds of genie’s ground Are sweeter in their immortality; When thou art near, like notes of happy birds, My thoughts uprise in songs that need no words.
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