I Love Thee...

I love thee, as I love the calm
Of sweet, star-lighted hours!
I love thee, as I love the balm
Of early jasmine flowers.
I love thee, as I love the last
Rich smile of fading day,
Which lingereth, like the look we cast,
On rapture passed away.
I love thee as I love the tone
Of some soft-breathing flute
Whose soul is waked for me alone,
When all beside is mute.

I love thee as I love the first
Young violet of the spring;
Or the pale lily, April-nursed,
To scented blossoming.
I love thee, as I love the full,
Clear gushings of the song,
Which lonely--sad--and beautiful--
At night-fall floats along,
Poured by the bul-bul forth to greet
The hours of rest and dew;
When melody and moonlight meet
To blend their charm, and hue.
I love thee, as the glad bird loves
The freedom of its wing,
On which delightedly it moves
In wildest wandering.

I love thee as I love the swell,
And hush, of some low strain,
Which bringeth, by its gentle spell,
The past to life again.
Such is the feeling which from thee
Nought earthly can allure:
This ever linked to all I see
Of gifted--high--and pure!