Sing me at morn but only with your laugh; <br />Even as Spring that laugheth into leaf; <br />Even as Love that laugheth after Life. <br /> <br /> <br />Sing me but only with your speech all day, <br />As voluble leaflets do; let viols die; <br />The least word of your lips is melody! <br /> <br /> <br />Sing me at eve but only your sigh! <br />Like lifting seas it solaceth; breathe so, <br />Slowly and low, the sense that no songs say. <br /> <br /> <br />Sing me at midnight with your murmurous heart! <br />Let youth's immortal-moaning chord be heard <br />Throbbing through you, and sobbing, unsubdued.<br /><br />Wilfred Owen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-of-songs-6/
