My Beloved
My Beloved is the mountains,
The solitary wooded valleys,
The strange islands,
The roaring torrents,
The whisper of the amorous gales;
The tranquil night
At the approaches of the dawn,
The silent music,
The murmuring solitude,
The supper which revives, and enkindles love.
-St. John of God-
The roses of Sharon, the lilies that grow in the vales, on the banks of the streams
On His cheeks in the beauty of excellence blow; His eyes are as quivers of beams.
His voice as the sound of the dulcimer sweet is heard through the shadows of death;
The cedars of Lebanon bow at His feet, the air is perfumed with His breath.
-Joseph Swain-