And the light of their love is the gleam of the sun
O’er the meadows of Spring where the quick shadows run:
As the morn shirts the mists and the clouds from the skies-
So I stand in the dawn of her beautiful eyes.
And her beautiful eyes are as midday to me,
When the lily-bell bends with the weight of the bee,
And the throat of the thrush is a-pulse in the heat,
And the senses are drugged with the subtle and sweet
And delirious breaths of the air’s lullabies-
So I swoon in the noon of her beautiful eyes.
O her beautiful eyes! they have smitten mine own
As a glory glanced down from the glare of The Throne;
And I reel, and I falter and fall, as afar
Fell the shepherds that looked on the mystical Star,
And yet dazed in the tidings that bade them arise-
So I grope through the night of her beautiful eyes.

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