Explore "Song" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
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.