Only the beauty of your sweet eyes,

The power by which you sway

A kingdom of hearts, that little you prize—

I shouldn't like to say.

I shouldn't like to say, I'm sure,

I shouldn't like to say

Why I hear your voice, so fresh and pure,

In the dash of the laughing spray.

Nor why the wavelets that all the while,

In many a diamond-glittering file,

With truant sunbeams play,

Should make me remember your rippling smile—

I shouldn't like to say.

I shouldn't like to say, I'm sure,

I shouldn't like to say,

Why all the birds should chirp of you,

Who live so far away.

Robin and oriole sing to me

From the leafy depths of our apple-tree,

With trunk so gnarled and gray—

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