Why should you be astonished that my heart, 
Plunged for so long in darkness and in dearth, 
Should be revived by you, and stir and start 
As by warm April now, reviving Earth? 
I am the field of undulating grass 
And you the gentle perfumed breath of Spring, 
And all my lyric being, when you pass, 
Is bowed and filled with sudden murmuring. 
I asked you nothing and expected less, 
But, with that deep, impassioned tenderness 
Of one approaching what he most adores, 
I only wished to lose a little space 
All thought of my own life, and in its place 
To live and dream and have my joy in yours.