And then--it was then--he spoke, and I heard;
And the moon rose up, and the stars grew dim,
And all of a sudden the nightingale-bird
Triumphantly chanted her jubilant hymn.




What are you singing about, little birds,
Twittering loudly in lime-tree and oak?
Telling each other the wonderful words
On a sweet May evening a lover spoke?

Butterflies, floating away from the trees,
With blossom-like wings of delicate dye,
You are bearing tidings certain to please,
Scatter them freely, but do not ask why.

Two lovers stood 'neath a star-lighted sky,
Half fearfully touching enchanted ground:
One lover was Harry, and one was I,
And the world went merrily round and round.

Souls rushing together from distant parts,
Vows utter'd that cannot be ever undone;
A minute ago two lives and two hearts,
Through time and eternity now but one.

O foolish butterflies! chattering birds!