And still in the mirror I mark the embrace,
Where the strong manly arms hide the small blushing face.
When the sun rises early to call people out,
There is nothing so sweet as to wander about,
A hand on an arm or an arm round a waist,
In lover-like leisure or holiday haste.
Then, all is delightful we see or we hear,
And speaking or silence are equally dear;
The earth at our feet of an emerald hue,
The Heaven above us incredibly blue,