Entering the skiff, she speaks:

Waters, flowing dark and bright In the sunlight or the moon, Seize my soul with such delight As a visible music might; As some slow, majestic tune Made material to the sight.

Blossoms colored like the skies, Sunset-hued and tame or wild, Fill my soul with such surmise As the mind might realize If our thoughts, all undefiled, Should take form before our eyes.

So to me do these appeal; So they sway me every hour: Letting all their beauty steal On my soul to make it feel, Through a rivulet or flower, More than any words reveal.