WHEN MY SWEET LADY SINGS

When she, my lady, smiles,

I feel as one who, lost in darksome wilds,

Sees suddenly the sun in middle sky

Shining upon him like a great glad eye.

When my sweet lady smiles.

When she, my lady laughs,

I feel as one who some elixir quaffs;

Some nameless nectar, made of wines of suns,

And through my veins a subtle iveresse runs.

When my sweet lady laughs.

And when my lady talks,

I am as one who by a brooklet walks,

Some sweet-tongued brooklet, which the whole long day,

Holds converse with the birds along the way.

When my loved lady talks.

And when my lady sings,

Oh then I hear the beat of silver wings;

All that is earthly from beneath me slips,

And in the liquid cadence of her lips

I float, so near the Infinite, I seem

Lost in the glory of a white starred dream.

When my sweet lady sings.