So silent are the thrush, the lark ! 
The nightingale’s at rest, 
Because my love loves the dark, 
And has me in her breast. 
No song this happy night be heard !— 
Unless my Alice be the bird. 
 
 
The sea that roared around the house 
Is fallen from alarms, 
Because my lover calls me spouse, 
And takes me to her arms. 
This night no sound of breakers be !— 
Unless my Alice be the sea. 
 
 
Of man and maid in all the world 
Is stilled the swift caress, 
Because my lover has me curled 
In her own loveliness. 
No kiss be such a night as this !— 
Unless by Alice be the kiss. 
 
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