And lit with one last gleam the lake below,
Ere it was shrouded in the gloom of night.
Through the hushed woods the silent darkness stole,
No living thing the sleeping echoes woke,
Save one late bird, unseen, whose wakeful soul
With ringing song the silence sweetly broke.
In that still hour so close our spirits drew;
We seemed alone in all the wide, dim earth;
I felt your strong arm clasp me, and I knew
The tender thought wherein the act had birth.