I come to tell you how the author sat
And looked upon the picture of his love.
He spoke to her—you know he could do that—
And she replied. But this you must believe.
Although no ears received her charming words,
Nor keenest eyes saw her sweet lips pronounce—
It was her heart which spoke to his and said
What none but they may know. ’Twas thus she brought him
Of love and faith and joy and merriment.
The last alone he has set down because