Entering the skiff, she speaks:

Waters, flowing dark and bright

In the sunlight or the moon,

Seize my soul with such delight

As a visible music might;

As some slow, majestic tune

Made material to the sight.

Blossoms colored like the skies,

Sunset-hued and tame or wild,

Fill my soul with such surmise

As the mind might realize

If our thoughts, all undefiled,

Should take form before our eyes.

So to me do these appeal;

So they sway me every hour:

Letting all their beauty steal

On my soul to make it feel,

Through a rivulet or flower,

More than any words reveal.