There is a something in her face br Which in no other I can trace, br And feelings sweet as music stir br When I gaze in her dreamy eyes, br And breathe a perfume, as it were, br From flowers in Paradise. br At morn, at noon and night it seems br As if I moved by faery streams, br A strange light on the leaves and grass; br As if her life-breath were the air br Through which the magic moments pass br In her dream-beauty there. br It is thought's paradise which she br Inhabits like a mystery, br Through which my feelings come and go br Like tunes which to her pulses stir; br And my life day by day, I trow, br Is one sweet dream of her.