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I Love Thee

I love thee, as I love the calm
 Of sweet, star-lighted hours!
I love thee, as I love the balm
 Of early jes’mine flow’rs.
I love thee, as I love the last
 Rich smile of fading day,
Which lingereth, like the look we cast,
 On rapture pass’d away.
I love thee as I love the tone
 Of some soft-breathing flute
Whose soul is wak’d for me alone,
 When all beside is mute.
 
I love thee as I love the first
 Young violet of the spring;
Or the pale lily, April-nurs’d,
 To scented blossoming.
I love thee, as I love the full,
 Clear gushings of the song,
Which lonely—sad—and beautiful—
 At night-fall floats along,
Pour’d by the bul-bul forth to greet
 The hours of rest and dew;
When melody and moonlight meet
 To blend their charm, and hue.
I love thee, as the glad bird loves
 The freedom of its wing,
On which delightedly it moves
 In wildest wandering.
 
I love thee as I love the swell,
 And hush, of some low strain,
Which bringeth, by its gentle spell,
 The past to life again.
Such is the feeling which from thee
 Nought earthly can allure:
’Tis ever link’d to all I see
 Of gifted—high—and pure! 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

This entry was posted on Friday, September 22nd, 2017 at 10:26 am. Both comments and pings are currently closed.