MY SONG

“When love is mine,” said I, “I’ll make a song In praise of love that maketh life so sweet; One worthy such a grand and noble theme— Worthy to lay at my belovèd’s feet. “Pure, perfect pearls of poesy I’ll string On Music’s silken thread, so rhythmic-sweet That those who hear shall feel as though each word Were but an echo of my heart’s warm beat.” Now love is mine; but where my boasted song? My heart is full—too full, ah me! for words; And yet methinks my new-found joy has lent Fresh rapture to the voices of the birds. And I am dumb; the world will never hear The music filling all this life of mine. Oh! love is too sublime a theme for me; I can but kneel in silence at love’s shrine.