There are none of love's daughters
That are as lovely as thee;
Like the ripple of still waters
Is your sweet music to me.
Then the murmur was causing
The wild ocean's mad pausing;
And the waves lay still gleaming
While the ebb tide rose dreaming.
The moonshine is weaving
Bright silver beams on the deep;
With the waves gently heaving
The grey gulls fast asleep.
So the stars shine before you
And the wind sighs to adore you;
With a song so full of emotion
Like the surge of the ocean.