While Maud stole to the balcony—did Paul stand there by chance?
It seemed not so—anon there came a lass surpassing fair;
Some hurried words, a merry laugh—they seek the gaslight’s glare.
Soon Paul claims Gertrude for the waltz; she yields and softly sighs,
Then off they whirl while glances dart from scores of jealous eyes.
* * * * *
The full round moon now rides on high; the fragrant air is cool,
The fountain’s spray, like flashing gems, darts in the limpid pool.
A rustic seat girts round an oak, and Paul leads Gertrude there,
She by his side, he takes her hand, so small, so soft and fair.