And the boughs of the brake and the reeds of the lake
Were bent by a passing breeze.
And still did we lean on our couch so green—
That sweet little maid and I—
And we marked its course as, with lessening force,
The breeze swept ruffling by.
Whilst the lake rippled o'er from shore to shore,
And shattered the moonbeams bright,
Till that mirror broad o'er its surface showed
One shivering sheet of light.