A Mystery Poem by James Ephraim McGirt

I do not know the ocean's song,
Or what the brooklets say;
At eve I sit and listen long,
I cannot learn their lay.
But as I linger by the sea,
And that sweet song comes unto me,
It seems, my love, it sings of thee.

I do not know why poppies grow,
Amid the wheat and rye,
The lillies bloom as white as snow,
I cannot tell you why.
But all the flowers of the spring,
The bees that hum, the birds that sing,
A thought of you they seem to bring.

I cannot tell why silvery Mars,
Moves through the heav'ns at night;
I cannot tell you why the stars,
Adorn the vault with light.
But what sublimity I see,
Upon the mount, the hill, the lea,
It brings, my love, a thought of thee.

I do not know what in your eyes,
That caused my heart to glow,
And why my spirit longs and cries,
I vow, I do not know.
But when you first came in my sight,
My slumbering soul awoke in light,
And since the day I've known no night.