For him, who loves, each mounting morn
Breathes melody more sweet than birds’;
And every wind-stirred flower and thorn
Whispers melodious words:—
Would you believe that everything
Through her loved voice is made to sing?
For her, the faultless skies of day
Grow nearer in eternal blue,
Where God is felt as wind and ray,
And seen as fire and dew:—
Would you believe that all the skies
Are Heaven only through his eyes?
For them, the dreams that haunt the night
With mystic beauty and romance,
Are presences of starry light,
And moony radiance:—
Would you believe this love of theirs
Could make for them a universe?