There is a garden so divinely fair
That in its magic bound, surpassing sweet,
The golden buds, so Persian songs repeat,
Spring forth immortal in enchanted air;
But, ah, a close there is, more heavenly rare,
Where, cherished warm within the heart’ s retreat,
Love’ s whitest lilies burgeon to complete
And fragrant flowering lovely past compare.
O dearest friend, such lilies have I found
Within my heart, undreamed-of but for thee!
Nor any fabled buds of genie’ s ground
Are sweeter in their immortality;
When thou art near, like notes of happy birds,
My thoughts uprise in songs that need no words.