A Song.

I shouldn't like to say, I'm sure,                 I shouldn't like to say,             Why I think of you more, and more, and more                 As day flits after day.             Nor why I see in the Summer skies             Only the beauty of your sweet eyes,                 The power by which you sway             A kingdom of hearts, that little you prize                 I shouldn't like to say.             I shouldn't like to say, I'm sure,                 I shouldn't like to say             Why I hear your voice, so fresh and pure,                 In the dash of the laughing spray.             Nor why the wavelets that all the while,             In many a diamond-glittering file,                 With truant sunbeams play,             Should make me remember your rippling smile                 I shouldn't like to say.             I shouldn't like to say, I'm sure,                 I shouldn't like to say,             Why all the birds should chirp of you,                 Who live so far away.             Robin and oriole sing to me                 From the leafy depths of our apple-tree,                 With trunk so gnarled and gray             But why your name should their burden be                 I shouldn't like to say.