Certain Pleasant Verses to the Lady of My Heart

The murmur of the merry brook,As gushingly and freeIt wimples with its sun-bright look,Far down yon sheltered lea,Humming to every drowsy flowerA low, quaint lullaby,Speaks to my spirit, at this hour,Of Love and thee.

The music of the gay green wood,When every leaf and treeIs coaxed by winds of gentlest mood,To utter harmony;And the smaH birds that answer makeTo the wind's fitful glee,In me most blissful visions wake.Of Love and thee.

The rose perks up its blushing cheek,So soon as it can see

Along the eastern hills, one streakOf the Sun's majesty:Laden with dewy gems, it gleamsA precious freight to me,For each pure drop thereon me seemsA type of thee.

And when abroad in summer morn,I hear the blythe bold beeWinding aloft his tiny horn,(An errant knight perdy,)That winged hunter of rare sweetsO'er many a far country,To me a lay of love repeats,Its subject—thee.

And when, in midnight hour, I noteThe stars so pensively,In their mild beauty, onward floatThrough heaven's own silent sea:My heart is in their voyagingTo realms where spirits be,But its mate, in such wandering,Is ever thee!

But O, the murmur of the brook,The music of the tree;The rose with its sweet shamefast look,The booming of the bee;The course of each bright voyagerIn heaven's unmeasured sea,Would not one heart-pulse of me stir,Loved I not thee!