While every startled eye looked up,
And, half-raised to her lips the cup,
The rosy maiden’s look met mine!
But I vail’d mine eyes with the silken twine
Of the small wild roses, clustering thickly;
Then to her seat returning quickly,
She 'gan to talk with bashful glee
Of fairies 'neath the greenwood tree
Dancing by moonlight, and she blest
Gently our silent land of rest.