With language, but my recreant tongue was stilled.
And oh! so tender was his melting mood!
He clasped my hand—the clasp I understood;
He sought my eyes—but oh! I dared not raise
Those little tell-tales to receive his gaze;
‘One little word,’ he said, with fond caress.
I spoke; that word, that little word was—‘Yes!’
. . . . . .
A morning when the sunshine seemed to be
The fairest thing on this fair earth to me,