And as I approach the shadowy boughs
That are spreading out over earth and air,
A gay little miracle fate allows,
And the star appears to be sparkling there!
Gladly I ran o'er the daisy-clad plain,
Led by the shimmering light of the star,
And under the tree I found—Harry Vane
Lying, and smoking a 'mild cigar!'
I started astonish'd—he stood upright,
And said, in a voice persuasively kind,