| |
| BY the merest chance, in the twilight gloom, | |
| In the orchard path he met me; | |
| In the tall, wet grass, with its faint perfume, | |
| And I tried to pass, but he made no room, | |
| Oh, I tried, but he would not let me. | 5 |
| So I stood and blushed till the grass grew red, | |
| With my face bent down above it, | |
| While he took my hand as he whispering said— | |
| (How the clover lifted each pink, sweet head | |
| To listen to all that my lover said,— | 10 |
| Oh, the clover in bloom, I love it!) | |
| |
| In the high, wet grass went the path to hide, | |
| And the low, wet leaves hung over; | |
| But I could not pass upon either side, | |
| For I found myself, when I vainly tried, | 15 |
| In the arms of my steadfast lover. | |
| And he held me there and he raised my head, | |
| While he closed the path before me, | |
| And he looked down into my eyes and said— | |
| (How the leaves bent down from the boughs o’erhead, | 20 |
| To listen to all that my lover said,— | |
| Oh, the leaves hanging lowly o’er me!) | |
| |
| Had he moved aside but a little way, | |
| I could surely then have passed him; | |
| And he knew I never could wish to stay, | 25 |
| And would not have heard what he had to say, | |
| Could I only aside have cast him. | |
| It was almost dark, and the moments sped, | |
| And the searching night wind found us, | |
| But he drew me nearer and softly said— | 30 |
| (How the pure sweet wind grew still, instead, | |
| To listen to all that my lover said,— | |
| Oh, the whispering wind around us!) | |
| |
| I am sure he knew, when he held me fast, | |
| That I must be all unwilling; | 35 |
| For I tried to go, and I would have passed, | |
| As the night was come with its dew, at last, | |
| And the sky with its stars was filling. | |
| But he clasped me close when I would have fled, | |
| And he made me hear his story, | 40 |
| And his soul came out from his lips and said— | |
| (How the stars crept out where the white moon led, | |
| To listen to all that my lover said,— | |
| Oh, the moon and the stars in glory!) | |
| |
| I know that the grass and the leaves will not tell, | 45 |
| And I ’m sure that the wind, precious rover, | |
| Will carry my secret so safely and well | |
| That no being shall ever discover | |
| One word of the many that rapidly fell | |
| From the soul-speaking lips of my lover; | 50 |
| And the moon and the stars that looked over | |
| Shall never reveal what a fairy-like spell | |
| They wove round about us that night in the dell, | |
| In the path through the dew-laden clover, | |
| Nor echo the whispers that made my heart swell | 55 |
| As they fell from the lips of my lover. | |
| |
