When I Think of You
D
EAR, when I think of you I too must think
Of things that ever were a part of you,
All glad and beautiful: of open fires,
Of autumn sunlight melting through the blue
Clear sky upon the yellow fallen leaves,
Of books, and rare old paintings and of flowers,
Of starlight, and of moonlight, and of songs
Well-sung that glorify the common hours.
And dear, I find that when I think of you
My thoughts are freed from all things false and
wrong.
My being is uplifted like as one
Who in some dim cathedral hears the song
And prayer of unseen suppliants, and there,
Exalted with a new sweet sense of true
And better things, may go away transformed.
So dear, my thoughts are when I think of you.
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