As I stroll by the stream where you stray,
A beam is reflected afar,
Which seems, on the waters, a ray—
The ray from a luminous star.
What is it that sweetens my sight,
That lightens the leaf-burthened skies?
What is it, my Love, but the light,—
The light of your beautiful eyes?
As nearer and nearer I roam,
In the month of the rosy-mouthed June,
What is it that throws round your home
The mirage of the mystical moon?
What is it that softens my sight,
That mellows the marvellous skies?
What is it, my Love, but the light,—
The light of your beautiful eyes?
As I gaze on the girl of my love,
My ravishing, radiant one,
There seems to shower light from above,
And I look for the summer-time sun.
What is it that dazzles my sight,
That rivals the roseate skies?
What is it, my Love, but the light,—
The light of your beautiful eyes?