Across the sky?
Or didst thou watch the little stars' betrothal?—
Thy father cometh home, leave the door open—
Down to the fountain didst thou go, and there
Thy wooden pitcher filled, didst thou yet linger
Another hour with the full pitcher by thee—
I was young,—
And did thy tears make glad thy countenance?
And did thy sleep bring gladness to the night?
And did thy dreams bring gladness to thy sleep?