Lips that are lovely both by sound and sight, Breathing such music as the dove, which broods Within the dark and silence of the woods, Croons to the mate that is her heart's delight.

Where is a line, in cloud or wave or hill, To match the curve which rounds her soft-flushed cheek? A colour, in the sky of morn or of even, To match that flush? Ah, let me now be still! If of her spirit I should strive to speak, I should come short, as earth comes short of heaven.

Love, when the present is become the past, And dust has covered all that now is new, When many a fame has faded out of view, And many a later fame is fading fast -

If then these songs of mine might hope to last, Which sing most sweetly when they sing of you, Though queen and empress wore oblivion's hue, Your loveliness would not be overcast.

Now, while the present stays with you and me, In love's copartnery our hearts combine, Life's loss and gain in equal shares to take. Partners in fame our memories then would be: Your name remembered for my songs; and mine Still unforgotten for your sweetness' sake.

Early on Christmas Day, Love, as awake I lay, And heard the Christmas bells ring sweet and clearly, My heart stole through the gloom Into your silent room, And whispered to your heart, `I love you dearly.'

There, in the dark profound, Your heart was sleeping sound, And dreaming some fair dream of summer weather. At my heart's word it woke, And, ere the morning broke, They sang a Christmas carol both together.

Glory to God on high! Stars of the morning sky, Sing as ye sang upon the first creation, When all the Sons of God Shouted for joy abroad, And earth was laid upon a sure foundation.