“Shut your sweet bells till the fawn comes out

On the sunny turf to play,

And the woodland child with a fairy shout

Goes dancing on its way!”

“Nay! let our shadowy beauty bloom

When the stars give quiet light,

And let us offer our faint perfume

On the silent shrine of night.

“Call it not wasted, the scent we lend

To the breeze, when no step is nigh: