An Old-Fashioned Love Song

Tell me what within her eyes Makes the forgotten Spring arise, And all the day, if kind she looks, Flow to a tune like tinkling brooks; Tell me why, if but her voice Falls on men’s ears, their souls rejoice; Tell me why, if only she Doth come into the companie All spirits straight enkindled are, As if a moon lit up a star. Tell me this that’s writ above, And I will tell you why I love. Tell me why the foolish wind Is to her tresses ever kind, And ouly blows them in such wise As lends her beauty some surprise; Tell me why no changing year Can change from Spring, if she appear; Tell me why to see her face Begets in all folk else a grace That makes them fair, as love of her Did to a gentler nature stir. Tell me why, if she but go Alone across the fields of snow, All fancies of the Springs of old Within a lover’s breast grow bold; Tell me why, when her he sees, Within him stirs an April breeze; And all that in his secret heart Most sacredly was set apart, And most was hidden, then awakes, At the sweet joy her coming makes. Tell me what is writ above, And I will tell you why I love.