Which no other one may know.
When the fairies from the Southland
Bring from far the meek-eyed flowers—
Undine trippeth o’er the waters,
In the rosy June-day hours—
As I watch her mellow glances
Lighting up the fitful stream,
I shall tell her all the haloes
Of a youthful poet’s dream;
And I’ll gather on the lea-land,