Far Underneath The Airs

Far underneath the airs of light-heart wit
Clangs bell on bell of seriousness more fit,
And though this poet’s rhymes may dance with light,
The earth moves in his frame with love’s deep might.
I sing you leaves so that you be not sad,
I sing you baby birds that you be glad;
I sing you dreamy night and beamy day
That all your all is ever bright and gay.
But, lest you think me silly and not real,
I swear upon my life you’re my ideal.
My heart is sound, for it is built on thought,
A thought intensed for what it sensed in you—
A being beautiful, a woman perfect wrought,
Who stands the soul-young princess I pursue!

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