Ah Music! Whisper to my love,
Some golden fancy of thy clime--
Some glorious sound,
To breath around,
A sweetness, sweeter than my rhime,
Of sweet breath thime
In orange grove,
When she may rove,
As wild and free,
As the Dryads be,
That circle there, around, above her,
To tell her that I love her.
Ah Beauty! Whisper to my love,
Some glorious fervor of thy being,
On golden sands
Of Orient strands;
By limpid lakes where she is fleeing,
And there is seeing
The classic grace
Of her proud race,
As wild and free,
As the Dryads be,
That circle there, around, above her,
To tell her that I love her.
Ah Pleasure! Whisper to my love,
Some happiness as sweet as thine,
When wild bee sips
The honey drips,
In early May. And lowing kine,
In dreamy line,
Have led her feet
To the pastures sweet,
As wild and free,
As the Dryads be,
That circle there, around, above her,
To tell her that I love her.
Sweet trine! Oh! whisper to my love,
Such wildest pleasures thou hast known,
Of lake or strand,
Or flow'ry land,
In happy regions all thine own;
Of dreamy zone,
Where all day long,
Hast sung her song,
As wild and free,
As the Dryads be,
That circle there around, above her,
To tell her that I love her.