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He sings
I send my heart up to thee， all my heart In this my singing. For the stars help me， and the sea bears part； The very night is clinging Closer to Venice streets to leave one space Above me， whence thy face May light my joyous1 heart to thee its dwelling-place She speaks Say after me， and try to say My very words， as if each word Came from you of your own accord In your own voice， in your own way： "This woman's heart and soul and brain Are mine as much as this gold chain She bids me wear； which" （say again） "I choose to make by cherishing A precious thing， or choose to fling Over the boat-side， ring by ring." And yet once more say…… no word more！ Since words are only words. Give o'er！ The moth's kiss， first！ Kiss me as if you made believe You were not sure， this eve， How my face， your flower， had pursed Its petals2 up； so， here and there You brush it， till I grow aware Who wants me， and wide ope I burst. The bee's kiss， now！ Kiss me as if you entered gay My heart at some noonday， A bud that dares not disallow3 The claim， so all is rendered up， And passively its shattered cup Over your head to sleep I bow. Lie back； could thought of mine improve you？ From this shoulder let there spring A wing； from this， another wing； Wings， not legs and feet， shall move you！ Snow-white must they spring， to blend With your flesh， but I intend They shall deepen to the end， Broader， into burning gold， Till both wings crescent-wise enfold Your perfect self， from 'neath your feet To o'er your head， where， lo， they meet As if a million sword-blades hurled5 Defiance6 from you to the world！ Rescue me thou， the only real！ And scare away this mad ideal That came， nor motions to depart！ Thanks！ Now， stay as thou art！ 点击  收听单词发音
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