Their eyes met glancingly
Their troth had been plighted
There was a kind of exhilaration in this subtle baiting
There was a mild triumph in her tone
There was a mournful and dim haze around the moon
There was a strange massing and curving of the clouds
There was a thrill in the air
There was a time I might have trod the sunlit heights
There was no glint of hope anywhere
There was no menace in the night's silvern calmness