We stood by the river that swept In its glory and grandeur away;But never a pulse o' me leapt, And you wondered at me that day.
We stood by the lake as it lay With its dimpled face turned to the light;Was it strange I had nothing to say To so fair and enchanting a sight?
I look on your tresses of gold -
You are fair and a thing to be loved -
Do you think I am heartless and cold That I look and am wholly unmoved?
One answer, dear friend, I will make To the questions your eyes ask of me:
"Talk not of the river or lake To those who have looked on the sea"WHAT HAPPENS?
When thy hand touches mine, through all the mesh Of intricate and interlaced veins Shoot swift delights that border on keen pains:
Flesh thrills to thrilling flesh.
When in thine eager eyes I look to find A comrade to my thought, thy ready brain Delves down and makes its inmost meaning plain:
Mind answers unto mind.
When hands and eyes are hid by seas that roll Wide wastes between us, still so near thou art I count the very pulses of thy heart:
Soul speaketh unto soul.
So every law, or human or divine, In heart and brain and spirit makes thee mine.
