I know the words are beautiful,
That those well-chosen rhymes
Fall smoothly clear, and musical
As softly calling chimes.
But seldom now I heed the flow
Of rhymes so often told,
Although the thoughts that lie below
Seem sweeter than of old.
'Tis much the same, O friend, with you:
I often hardly see
How darkly fringed and deeply blue
The eyes you turn on me.
Yes, words and faces that we know
Will pall at times, I fear:
'Tis thoughts and souls that do but grow
More intimately dear.