But on a sudden Merow took my hand
In his, and looked at me with pleading eyes.
I dropped my gaze, and silent plucked a flower.
But ever closer drew that yearning face;
And his hand grew more amorous, his mouth
Closed upon mine; nor was I hard to win,
Wearied with my desire and love for him.
So the woods saw our wedlock, while the bees
Went murmuring about the white-starred grass,
At their sweet business, as we at ours;