I can not tell what I would tell thee,
What I would say, what thou shouldst hear;
Words of the soul that should compel thee,
Words of the heart to draw thee near.
For when thou smilest, thou, who fillest
My life with joy, and I would speak,
’Tis then my lips and tongue are stillest,
Knowing all language is too weak.
Look in my eyes: read there confession:
The truest love hath least of art:
Nor needs it words for its expression
When soul speaks soul and heart speaks heart.