Ask me not, Dear, what thing it is br That makes me love you so; br What graces, what sweet qualities, br That from your spirit flow: br For I have but this old reply, br That you are you, that I am I. br br My heart leaps when you look on me, br And thrills to hear your voice. br Lies, then, in these the mystery br That makes my soul rejoice? br I only know, I love you true; br Since I am I, and you are you.