Classic Poem

Oh, never ask, my son, what love may be —
Oh, never ask, for I cannot declare it.
Should life reveal to you the mystery,
You, just as I, could let no other share it.

You see a pair of eyes, — you know not how, —
A lock that flutters; lips too, smiling lightly.
And presto! where 's your heart flown off to now?
The sun, however, seems to shine more brightly.

You hear an unknown voice, and in dismay,
You lose from that first moment all your reason,
Touched by the magic wand of some small fay,
Some girl who has not seen her eighteenth season.

Within the wood's deep twilight, where the thrush
Is warbling, and the moon gleams on the water,
Your soul takes wings beside her in the hush,
As through that night of June you've gently brought her.

You 'd gather the green world in your embrace,
A world of love-songs and of spring-sweet blisses;
And then before you dared to ask the grace,
Your lips have won of hers a thousand kisses.

Leaning together, while your spirits yearn,
You drink the cup Oblivion's hand is reaching —
Why need you care, though all the world should burn,
If toward you two no hungry flames are stretching?

Why should you care, though all things go to rack,
Though Night and Chaos rule the world at pleasure,
If for one moment two deep orbs of black
Foretell a happiness beyond all measure.

Oh, never ask, my son, what love may be —
Oh, never ask, for I cannot declare it.
Should life reveal to you the mystery,
You, just as I, could let no other share it.