INSENSIBILITY

They tell me that the day is fair,

With blossoms springing everywhere;

I do not know, I cannot say,

For thou, my love, art far away.

They tell me that the birds sing sweet,

That brooklets ripple at my feet;

I do not know, I cannot hear,

For thou, my love, art nowhere near.

They tell me that the sky is blue,

The hills take on a purple hue;

I do not know, I cannot see,

For thou, my love, art not with me.