How soft the glow of moonlight,

reflected from the sand.

How sweet the smell of Jasmine,

borne on the evenings air.

How still the two young lovers,

afraid to state their love.

How soft, how sweet, how still.

 

How soft the lips of lovers,

the first time that they meet.

How sweet the scent of perfume,

that lingers in her hair.

How still that magic moment,

when hearts beat as if one.

How soft, how sweet, how still.

 

How softly do the years fly,

as through this life we tread.

How sweet are those memories,

we hide deep in our hearts.

How still the cowardly tongue,

that seldom says, “I love you.”

How soft, how sweet, how still.

How soft ! How sweet ! How still !

 

 

David Garlick, Victoria, August 1988