Love let the wind cry

Love let the wind cry

On the dark mountain,

Bending the ash trees

And the tall hemlocks

With the great voice of

Thunderous legions,

How I adore thee.

Let the hoarse torrent

In the blue canyon,

Murmuring mightily

Out of the gray mist

Of primal chaos

Cease not proclaiming

How I adore thee.

Let the long rhythm

Of crunching rollers,

Breaking and bursting

On the white seaboard

Titan and tireless,

Tell, while the world stands,

How I adore thee.

Love, let the clear call

Of the tree cricket,

Frailest of creatures,

Green as the young grass,

Mark with his trilling

Resonant bell-note,

How I adore thee.

Let the glad lark-song

Over the meadow,

That melting lyric

Of molten silver,

Be for a signal

To listening mortals,

How I adore thee.

But, more than all sounds,

Surer, serener,

Fuller with passion

And exultation,

Let the hushed whisper

In thine own heart say,

How I adore thee.