Хюб де Ланге - The Gift - ноты, текст песни (слова)

You sent me flowers when I lay ill.
 Their tender beauty seemed to fill
 My room with all earth's loveliness.
 I thought my life rich heretofore
 When busy hand and teeming brain
 Gave me no pause to stay and pore
 Over God's wonders wrought so plain.
 In flower and leave on every hand.
 Ah me! I did not understand
 How poor in very truth I was
 until my weakness gave me pause,
 Till I lay idle, lonely, ill,
 And knew myself rich, rich indeed,
 Rich beyond all desert or meed,
 Showered by the infinite largesse
 Of sweet and subtle loveliness
 Revealed me hour by hour in these
 Half-dozen delicate irises.