Classic Poem

1

The spirit of Love is a beautiful thing
As ever o'er flowers and fair bosoms took wing
As ever broke silence through innocent lips
More sweet than the nectar the butterfly sips
From the breath of the rose tree sprinkled with dew
O Love is as sweet and as innocent too
The spirit of Love is an innocent thing
As ever o'er flowers and fair bosoms took wing

2

Not a sigh e'er escapes it to shew to the eye
Of her he adores that a lover is nigh
His eye thinks a language — and turns on her dress
What no tongue has spoken, no wisper can guess.
The language of love is as still as the grave
Its hopes are the sweetest that life ever gave
The spirit of Love is an innocent thing
As ever o'er flowers and fair bosoms took wing.

3

Its fancies are sweet as the blossoms of spring
Its thoughts are as rich as the songs seraphs sing
Its love is the apple the ball of the eye
Who's light is loves language — a silent reply
The eve when we courted — the field where we met
Like the fire of the soul warms the fond bosom yet
O the spirit of Love is an innocent thing
As ever o'er flowers and fair bosoms took wing