I Love Thee

by Eliza Acton

I love thee, as I love the calm
Of sweet, star – lighted hours!
I love thee, as I love the balm
Of early jes’min flow’rs.
I love thee, as I love the last
Rich smile of the fading day,
Which lingereth, like the look we cast,
On rapture that pass’d away.
I love thee as I love the tone
Of some soft – breathing flute
Whose soul is wak’d 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 - nurs’d,
To scented blooming.
I love thee, as I love the full,
Clear gushings of song,
Which lonely – sad – and beautiful –
At night – fall floats along,
Pour’d 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 wings,
On which it delightedly 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 of life again.
Such is the feeling from thee
Nought earthly can allure:
‘Tis ever link’d to all I see
Of gifted – high – and pure!