O Sweetly Wild And 'Witching Poesy! Thou Light Of This World'S Hermitage I Prove Thee; And Surely None Helps Loving Thee That Knows Thee, A Soul Of Feeling Cannot Help But Love Thee. I Would Say How Thy Secret Wonders Move Me, Thou Spell Of Loveliness!--But 'Tis Too Much: Had I The Language Of The Gods Above Me I Might Then Venture Thy Wild Harp To Touch, And Sing Of All Thy Thrilling Pains And Pleasures; The Flowers I Meet In This World'S Wilderness; The Comforts Rising From Thy Spell-Bound Treasures, Thy Cordial Balm That Softens My Distress: I Would Say All, But Thou Art Far Above Me; Words Are Too Weak, Expression Can't Be Had; I Can But Say I Love, And Dearly Love Thee, And That Thou Cheer'St Me When My Soul Is Sad.