Vi

Over the bay as our boat went sailing Under the skies of Augustine, The marsh-hen cried and the tide was ailing Under the skies of Augustine.-- And so we parted. No vows were spoken. No faith was plighted that might be broken. But deep in our hearts each bore a token Of life and of love and of all they mean, Beautiful, thornless and ever green, As over the bay our boat went sailing Under the skies of Augustine.

St. Augustine, Fla.

Words

I cannot tell what I would tell thee, What I would say, what thou shouldst hear: Words of the soul that should compell thee, Words of the heart to draw thee near.

For when thou smilest, thou, who fillest My life with joy, and I would speak, 'T is then my lips and tongue are stillest, Knowing all language is too weak.

Look in my eyes: read there confession: The truest love has least of art: Nor needs it words for its expression When soul speaks soul and heart speaks heart.

Reasons