Like birds from roses—and the sorceress flung

A dainty chain of gold and gossamer

About her, and with sound of wings and breath

Of fragrance, vanished.

Maiden, look up! behold!

A dark-haired youth, with eyes of burning light,

Kneels gracefully before her; and his words,

Scarce heard for sighs, thrill to the inmost heart

Of that fair listener. He takes her hand—

His arm is round her—kisses warm and sweet