’Tis the whistle o’ her lover’s pipe.
See, see, the path e’en now
Doth show him, tall and dark, aside the gate.
What! What! Thou sayest
’Tis but the rustle o’ the leaves,
And brooklet’s humming o’er its stony path!
Then hush! Yea, hush thee!
Hush and leave me here!
The fairy wand hath broke, and leaves
Stand still, and note hath ceased,