My Michelle

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I love thee, as I love the calm

    Of sweet, star-lighted hours!

I love thee, as I love the balm

    Of early jes'mine flow'rs.

I love thee, as I love the last

    Rich smile of fading day,

Which lingereth, like the look we cast,

    On rapture pass'd away.

I love thee as I love the tone

    Of some soft-breathing flute

Whose soul is wak'd for me alone,

    When all beside is mute.

I love thee as I love the first

    Young violet of the spring;

Or the pale lily, April-nurs'd,

    To scented blossoming.

I love thee, as I love the full,

    Clear gushings of the song,

Which lonely--sad--and beautiful--

    At night-fall floats along,

Pour'd by the bul-bul forth to greet

    The hours of rest and dew;

When melody and moonlight meet

    To blend their charm, and hue.

I love thee, as the glad bird loves

    The freedom of its wing,

On which delightedly it moves

    In wildest wandering.

I love thee as I love the swell,

    And hush, of some low strain,

Which bringeth, by its gentle spell,

    The past to life again.

Such is the feeling which from thee

    Nought earthly can allure:

'Tis ever link'd to all I see

    Of gifted--high--and pure!

                                                    - Ryan

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⏰ Last updated: Sep 02, 2014 ⏰

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