A memory to mind.

Bury not his eyes in a place I cannot find, For he is the fairest features of a memory to mind, I often lull asleep besides the old rivers blue details, and kiss his lips of morning Before the paper boat sets sails

Oh where does the song bird go, when winter brings the ice and snow And all the leaves make likely glow
A dew drop of a fancy face just like those eyes I long embraced,

what shade of sky would then delight, no more than them I will in sight, For the venture most refrain, to be my sanctuary love again

and in the needs of loves wild flowers, kiss the spring with vibrant curd,  For every winter must a mist and waves so long that little bird,

but his voice like heavens chior, may just be the most beautiful song my heart has ever heard.