Frank Dempster Sherman


Her Smile His Sunlight

by Frank Dempster Sherman

Sweetheart, when rhymes I make
For your dear sake,
You bring
Into your face a smile
To cheer me while
I sing.

Like to that bird am I,
Which, when the sky
At night
A deeper azure grows,
No longer knows

Or like of flowers that one
Which loves the sun,
And gives
The beauty of its bloom
To him for whom
It lives:

Pleasure nor joy to bless
Have I unless
Your face
Over my paper shines
And lights the lines
With grace.

For me your smile is day --
The golden ray
That climbs
Imagination's wall
And sweetens all
My rhymes.

For you the bird's song, this;
The flower's fresh kiss
And breath:
Nor may their nightfall come
Till both are dumb
In death!


Lyrics For A Lute
Copyright 1890
Boston and New York, Houghton, Mifflin, and Company
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