Song

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

   O praise me not with your lips, dear one!
      Though your tender words I prize.
   But dearer by far is the soulful gaze
      Of your eyes, your beautiful eyes
         Your tender, loving eyes.

   O chide me not with your lips, dear one!
      Though I cause your bosom sighs.
   You can make repentance deeper far
      By your sad, reproving eyes,
         Your sorrowful, troubled eyes.

   Words, at the best, are but hollow sounds;
      Above, in the beaming skies,
   The constant stars say never a word,
      But only smile with their eyes—
         Smile on with their lustrous eyes.

   Then breathe no vow with your lips, dear one;
      On the winged wind speech flies.
   But I read the truth of your noble heart
      In your soulful, speaking eyes—
         In your deep and beautiful eyes.

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

from Poems of Power by Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1903)
Respite	My Ships

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