Nightingale and the Lily of the Valley led the dance; for the
Nightingale sang of nought but love, and the Lily breathed of nought
but innocence, and he was the bridegroom and she was the bride. And
the Nightingale was never weary of repeating the same thing a
hundred times over, for the spring of love which gushed from his
heart was ever new--and the Lily bowed her head bashfully, that no
one might see her glowing heart. And yet the one lived so solely
and entirely in the other, that no one could see whether the notes
of the Nightingale were floating lilies, or the lilies visible
notes, falling like dewdrops from the Nightingale's throat.

The Child's heart was full of joy even to the brim. He set himself
down, and he almost thought he should like to take root there, and
live for ever among the sweet plants and flowers, and so become a
true sharer in all their gentle pleasures. For he felt a deep
delight in the still, secluded, twilight existence of the mosses and
small herbs, which felt not the storm, nor the frost, nor the
scorching sunbeam; but dwelt quietly among their many friends and
neighbours, feasting in peace and good fellowship on the dew and
cool shadows which the mighty trees shed upon them. To them it was
a high festival when a sunbeam chanced to visit their lowly home;
whilst the tops of the lofty trees could find joy and beauty only in
the purple rays of morning or evening.



CHAPTER VI.