BECAUSE.

NNotbecause you are gentle of speech,O brave knight of mine!Nor because in the chivalrous listWith the brightest you shine;Nor because when you pass on the streetAll the world turn to praiseThe wonderful charm of your lookAnd grace of your ways;Nor because in your presence I knowI have but to command,And the coveted treasures at onceWill fall from your hand;Nor because by the glance of your eyesThat so tenderly drewMy whole heart unto yours, I may knowI am perfect to you;But because in your presence, dear,IGrow gentle of speech;The haughty young maiden who onceWas so wilful to teach;And because when I pass on the streetAll the world turn to praiseA certain new charm inmylookAnd grace inmyways;And because in your presence I loseThe proud wish to command;Contented, nay eager, dear love,To be led by your hand;And because your eyes full of reproachAt some things that I do,Still show the belief I shall growTo be worthy of you;—Do I love you? ’twere idle indeedTo refuse now to yield;Quite useless for lips to denyWhat the eyes have revealed;Yet not, (let me say it, for fearThat too vain you should be—)Not so much for what you are yourself,As for what you make me!

Notbecause you are gentle of speech,

O brave knight of mine!

Nor because in the chivalrous list

With the brightest you shine;

Nor because when you pass on the street

All the world turn to praise

The wonderful charm of your look

And grace of your ways;

Nor because in your presence I know

I have but to command,

And the coveted treasures at once

Will fall from your hand;

Nor because by the glance of your eyes

That so tenderly drew

My whole heart unto yours, I may know

I am perfect to you;

But because in your presence, dear,IGrow gentle of speech;The haughty young maiden who onceWas so wilful to teach;And because when I pass on the streetAll the world turn to praiseA certain new charm inmylookAnd grace inmyways;And because in your presence I loseThe proud wish to command;Contented, nay eager, dear love,To be led by your hand;And because your eyes full of reproachAt some things that I do,Still show the belief I shall growTo be worthy of you;—Do I love you? ’twere idle indeedTo refuse now to yield;Quite useless for lips to denyWhat the eyes have revealed;Yet not, (let me say it, for fearThat too vain you should be—)Not so much for what you are yourself,As for what you make me!

But because in your presence, dear,I

Grow gentle of speech;

The haughty young maiden who once

Was so wilful to teach;

And because when I pass on the street

All the world turn to praise

A certain new charm inmylook

And grace inmyways;

And because in your presence I lose

The proud wish to command;

Contented, nay eager, dear love,

To be led by your hand;

And because your eyes full of reproach

At some things that I do,

Still show the belief I shall grow

To be worthy of you;—

Do I love you? ’twere idle indeed

To refuse now to yield;

Quite useless for lips to deny

What the eyes have revealed;

Yet not, (let me say it, for fear

That too vain you should be—)

Not so much for what you are yourself,

As for what you make me!

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