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Of what avail the hectic reasoning Of what we were and what we may attain? All doubt is dead within this close where spring Unfolds within us far from life and pain. I reason not, nor do I seek to know, For naught can trouble that within whose scope Are all of sweet impulse and sudden fervour's glow, And tranquil flight to sanctuaried hope. Before I knew, I felt thy clarity; And 'tis my joy above All else to fill my heart with love Nor question why thy voice so calls to me. Come, let our hearts be true--the day insure To us the tenderness without the strife, And let them say that life Was never made to reach a love so pure.