What makes me love you?--Well,
In truth, I cannot tell!
I love, but know not why--
I only know I do,
And shall while I am I
And you are you.
It is your voice, maybe,
That draws the heart from me
And makes it yours alone:
Your voice it is--yet, nay,
’Tis not so much your tone
As what you say.
Perhaps it is your rare
And winsome, happy air,
Your eyes of sunny blue,
Your silvery laughter glad--
And yet, I love you too
When you are sad.
Though sweet your voice, and sweet
Your words be, when we meet,
And sweet the changeful light
Your heaven-deep eyes disclose--
I do not love you quite
For these or those.
I love you--yet I try
In vain to tell you why!
I love you by no laws
Men know or ever knew,
But just, I think, because
You’re simply--you!