The strains of woodwinds playing,
Recall to me your voice;
So rich and dulcet melody,
Its left for me, no choice,
but listening to what it tones decree
Were love to know, and bliss and ecstasy
That live there, in your soul.

What is good, dwells in your eyes,
And what is pure and true.
Their beauty has enraptured one
That finds in them and you
What has ever captured
The love of ardent youth;
And enthralled the heart of man
With beauty, love and truth.