by Oliver Wendell Holmes
Strange! that one lightly-whispered tone
Is far, far sweeter unto me.
Than all the sounds that kiss the earth,
Or breathe along the sea;
But, lady, when thy voice I greet,
Not heavenly music seems so sweet.
I look upon the fair blue skies,
And nought but empty air I see;
But when I turn me to thine eyes,
It seemeth unto me
Ten thousand angels spread their wings
Within those little azure rings.
The lily hath the softest leaf
That ever western breeze hath fanned,
But thou shalt have the tender flower,
So I may take thy hand;
That little hand to me doth yield
More joy than all the broidered field.
O lady! there be many things
That seem right fair, below, above;
But sure not one among them all
Is half so sweet as love; --
Let us not pay our vows alone,
But join two altars both in one.
Boston: Ticknor And Fields