Oh, no, no; but I must tell you—
Margit.
Yes, haste you—tell on!
Signë.
’Twas early morn, and the church bells rang,
To Mass I was fain to ride;
The birds in the willows twittered and sang,
In the birch-groves far and wide.
All earth was glad in the clear, sweet day;
And from church it had well-nigh stayed me;