A SONG.

I should n't like to say, I'm sure, I should n't like to say, Why I think of you more, and more, and more As day flits after day.

Nor why I see in the Summer skies Only the beauty of your sweet eyes, The power by which you sway A kingdom of hearts, that little you prize —

I should n't like to say. I should n't like to say, I'm sure, I should n't like to say Why I hear your voice, so fresh and pure,

In the dash of the laughing spray. Nor why the wavelets that all the while, In many a diamond-glittering file, With truant sunbeams play,

Should make me remember your rippling smile — I should n't like to say. I should n't like to say, I'm sure, I should n't like to say,

Why all the birds should chirp of you, Who live so far away. Robin and oriole sing to me From the leafy depths of our apple-tree,

With trunk so gnarled and gray — But why your name should their burden be I should n't like to say.