Curv'd the airy swallows.
When the lilies clos'd white lids
Over golden fancies--
Homeward drove her goats and kids
Bright the gay moon dances.
With her light and silver feet,
On the mill-stream flowing,
Come a thousand perfumes sweet,
Dewy buds are blowing.
Comes an owl and grely flits
Jewell'd ey'd and hooting--
Past the green tree where she sits
Nightingales are fluting
Soft the wind as rust'ling silk
On a courtly lady,
Tinkles down the flowing milk
Huge and still and shady--
Stands the mill-wheel resting still.
From its loving labor,
Dances on the tireless rill
Gay as lute or tabor!
"Bouche-Mignonne" it laughing cries
"Do not blush and tremble;
"If the night has ears and eyes
"I'll for thee disemble!
"Loud and clear and sweet I'll sing
"Oh my far way straying,
"I will hide the whisper'd thing
"Pierre to thee is saying.
"Bouche-Mignonne, good night, good night!