I Love Thee For A Heart That’s

Pleasure's A Moth, That Sleeps By Day And Dances By False Glare At Night; But Joy's A Butterfly, That Loves To Spread Its Wings In Nature's Light.

As Long As I Love Beauty I Am Young.

I Turned My Head And Saw The Wind, Not Far From Where I Stood, Dragging The Corn By Her Golden Hair, Into A Dark And Lonely Wood.

When On A Summer's Morn I Wake, And Open My Two Eyes, Out To The Clear, Born-singing Rills My Bird-like Spirit Flies. To Hear The Blackbird, Cuckoo, Thrush, Or Any Bird In Song; And Common Leaves That Hum All Day Without A Throat Or Tongue. And When Time Strikes The Hour For Sleep, Back In My Room Alone, My Heart Has Many A Sweet Bird's Song - And One That's All My Own.

And Hear The Pleasant Cockoo, Loud And Long - The Simple Bird That Thinks Two Notes A Song.