The sunshine of thine eyes,
(O still celestial beam!)
Whatever it touches it fills
With the life of its lambent gleam.

The sunshine of thine eyes,
Oh, let it fall on me!
Though I be but a mote of the air,
I could turn to gold for thee. (George Parsons Lathrop)

The sunshine of thine eyes, (O still celestial beam!) Whatever it touches it fills With the life of its lambent gleam. The sunshine of thine eyes, Oh, let it fall on me! Though I be but a mote of the air, I could turn to gold for thee.

George Parsons Lathrop

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air beam celestial fall gleam gold life mote sunshine thee turn whatever eyes

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