The years at the spring,
And days at the morn;
Mornings at seven;
The hillside’s dew-pearled.
The lark’s on the wing;
The snail’s on the thorn;
God’s in his heaven;
All’s right with the world.
Ah, Love, but a day, and the world has changed!
The sun’s away, and the bird’s estranged,
The wind has dropped and the sky’s deranged;
Summer has stopped.
Ah, Love, but a day, and the world has changed!
Look in my eyes!
Wilt thou change too?
Should I fear surprise?
Shall I find aught new;
In the old and dear, in the good and true,
With the changing year?
Ah love, look in my eyes
Wilt thou change too?
I send my heart up to thee,
All my heart
In this my singing
For the stars help me,
And the sea bears part;
The very night is clinging;
Closer to Venice streets,
To leave one space above me,
Whence thy face may light my joyous heart to thee,
To thee its dwelling place.