Stephen Vincent Benet - Dulce RidentemStephen Vincent Benet - Dulce Ridentem
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The bee, he has white honey,
The Sunday child her muff,
The rich man lots of money
Though never quite enough,
The apple has a Springtime smell,
The star-fields silver grain,
But I have youth, the cockleshell,
And the sweet laugh of Jane.
The lark`s tune goes so clearly
But Jane`s is clear wells.
The cuckoo`s voice currs cheerly,
But Jane`s is new bells.
Whether she chuckles like a dove,
Or laughs like April rain,
It is her heart and hands and love,
The moth-wing soul of Jane.
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