When My Sweet Lady Sings

When she, my lady, smiles,     I feel as one who, lost in darksome wilds,     Sees suddenly the sun in middle sky     Shining upon him like a great glad eye.          When my sweet lady smiles.     When she, my lady laughs,     I feel as one who some elixir quaffs;     Some nameless nectar, made of wines of suns,     And through my veins a subtle iveresse runs.          When my sweet lady laughs.     And when my lady talks,     I am as one who by a brooklet walks,     Some sweet-tongued brooklet, which the whole long day,     Holds converse with the birds along the way.          When my loved lady talks.     And when my lady sings,     Oh then I hear the beat of silver wings;     All that is earthly from beneath me slips,     And in the liquid cadence of her lips     I float, so near the Infinite, I seem     Lost in the glory of a white starred dream.          When my sweet lady sings.