The thought of you has filled the night with wonder,
The dawn with praise,
Till all my senses thrill, like roses under
The morning's rays.

This love of ours has clad with new-found splendour
The hills and streams,
No forest glade but sighs of vast surrender,
In noontide dreams,

No star in heaven but grants a starry lover
Some tender boon,
No drifting cloud but longs to clasp and cover
His lady Moon.

No song of bird that is not song of mating,
In sylvan shade,
No sigh of wind that is not sigh of waiting
For bliss delayed.

The world itself a garden, where we wander
'Mid passion flowers,
Or pause to kiss a while, and fondly ponder
This joy of ours.