Love.
Softly she comes, her garments trailing light,1
Like silvery ripples on a moonlit sea ;2
Oft know we not she’s here, so silently3
She stealeth on us, veilëd from our sight,4
Like some sweet fragrance borne on summer night,5
From hidden blooms which all around us be :6
We feel her presence, though we may not see7
Or know from whence we draw our strange delight.8
A word, a touch, may thrill us and reveal9
Her form as in a flash of lightning clear ;10
At Love’s sweet shrine we cast ourselves and kneel11
Trembling, in worship, she has grown so dear :12
We fear to lose what took us long to find,13
And wingëd Love by flowery chains we bind.14