At the modern opera grand;
What stirs my soul so deep, what I love most,
Thy song—and I understand.
But O that I could see thy beaming eye—
Mine eye on thee, all song!
Why so secretive, yet seductive—why?
My suit, renewed, so strong.
That tree, those leaves around thee—if they knew
Their day and honored hour,
Each leaf and branch would homage pay, thy due,