Some men think that jewels are treasure,
Some men think it’s gold;
Some men think a dream is pleasure,
Still dreaming when they’re old.
But I know you, and you’re the measure
Of riches yet untold.
Your coin of loving though
Keeps piling up so high
That I will still be counting
Until the day I die.
The sweet warm flashes from your mind
Will sing in me though I go blind,
Will sing and ring their loved caress
Where I walk on in happiness
With treasure true my whole life through—
My one and only you.