Though love has grown cold
The woods are bright with flowers,
Why not as of old
Go to the wildwood bowers
And dream of—bygone hours.

Like mist on the lees,
Fall gently, oh rain of Spring
On the orange trees
That to Ume's casement cling—
Perchance, she'll hear the love-bird sing.

Oh, were the white waves,
Far on the glimmering sea
That the moonshine laves,
Dream flowers drifting to me—
I would cull them, love, for thee.

One calm and cloudless winter night,
Under a moonless sky,
Whence I had seen the gracious light
Of sunset fade and die,

I stood alone a little space,
Where tree nor building bars
Its outlook, in a desert place,
The best to see the stars.

No sound was in the frosty air,
No light below the skies;
I looked above, and unaware
Looked in Medusa's eyes:—

The eyes that neither laugh nor weep,
That neither hope nor fear,
That neither watch nor dream nor sleep,
Nor sympathize nor sneer;

The eyes that neither spurn nor choose,

Thee will I love, my God and King
Thee will I sing,
My strength and tower:
For evermore thee will I trust,
O God most just
Of truth and power;
Who all things hast
In order placed,
Yea, for thy pleasure hast created;
And on thy throne
Unseen, unknown,
Reignest alone
In glory seated.

Set in my heart thy love I find;
My wandering mind
To thee thou leadest:
My trembling hope, my strong desire
With heavenly fire
Thou kindly feedest.
Lo, all things fair
Thy path prepare.
Thy beauty to my spirit calleth,
Thine to remain

Hurried seal of soft affection,
Tenderest pledge of future bliss,
Dearest tie of soft connection,
Love's first snow-drop, virgin kiss.

Speaking silence, dumb confession,
Passions' birth, and infant's play,
Dovelike fondness, chaste concession,
Brightest dawn of happiest day.

Knight of my maiden love,
Stalwart and manly—
Ever my yearning heart searcheth for thee;
Searcheth the busy crowd;
Hearken its babble loud;
Yearning in secret, thy dear face to see.

Knight of my maiden love,
Stalwart and manly—
Tender thy words were, and tender thy mien;
Deep in my loving heart,
Thee, hath I set apart—
Prince of my fancy, and lord of my dream.

Knight of my maiden love,
Stalwart and manly—
Calm and composed in thy presence I seem;
This is my sex decree—
Maidens must modest be;

God made my lady lovely to behold;—
Above the painter's dream he set her face,
And wrought her body in divinest grace;
He touched the brown hair with a sense of gold,
And in the perfect form He did enfold
What was alone as perfect, the sweet heart;
Knowledge most rare to her He did impart,
And filled with love and worship all her days.
And then God thought Him how it would be well
To give her music, and to Love He said,
“Bring thou some minstrel now that he may tell
How fair and sweet a thing My hands have made.”

My dear love died last night;
Shall I clothe her in white?
My passionate love is dead,
Shall I robe her in red?
But nay, she was all untrue,
She shall not go drest in blue;
Still my desolate love was brave,
Unrobed let her go to her grave.

There's a doctor livin' in your town.
There's a lawyer and an Indian, too.
Neither doctor, lawyer, or Indian chief
Could love you any more than I do.
There's a barr'l of fish in the ocean
And a lot of little birds in the blue.
Neither fish nor fowl,
Says the wise old owl,
Could love you any more than I do.
No, no, no, it couldn't be true
That anyone else could love you like I do.

1. I'm gonna warn all the dead-eye dicks
That you're the chick with the slickest tricks,
And ev'ry tick of my ticker ticks
For you, follow through.