YOU

What is this mystery? This subtle wonder—you? Which fills my soul with ecstasy, My eyes with dew? What are you, influence, so mild? As subtle as the air which sways The stalwart pine. What child Of nature are you? Soul obeys your slightest motion. Mind is set in deep commotion— By your presence— By your absence— Being thrills beneath your glance! A smile will all my thought enhance. Touch my lips, and every bliss Seeks heaven’s glory in a kiss! You! sweet influence, what art God used in fashioning you apart From His renownèd mould, In the marvellous days of old? Why, all the elements combined In making you The dearest mystery refined, The ages through! Yet, what are you? with power So great to bind my will, Fast in strong chains each hour; And every action fill With echoes of one name, Resounding in love’s hall of fame? You! Unlike your kind— An essence of God’s mind. An attribute of His deep joy, When in his toil of love He fashioned you without alloy, The masterpiece to prove, With every splendid gift—replete. You—complete! My earth, sky, sea, and air; My fruit, flower, jewel rare; My every need of day and night— Sun, moon, stars, space; my soul’s delight! Your name whose syllables are wings Which waft me high, Above the fragrant air which brings Faint eastern aromatics to the sky. Ever a mystery of art to be, A subtle influence subjecting me. Like, fair Hamadryad, created anew— Ineffable, mystical, wonderful—you!