The Love that speaks in word and kiss, That dyes the cheek and fires the eye, Through surface signs of shallow bliss That, quickly born, may quickly die; Sweet, sweet are these to man and woman;...
What though my voice cease like a moan o' the wind? Not the less shall I Cast on this life a kindly eye, Glad if through its mystery Faint gleams of love and truth glance o'er my mind. ...