Methought indeed ’twas love’s own hour—
He could not choose a fairer bower—
A scene so still, so void of strife,
So stirless, yet replete with life.
A lily by a rose-bud stood,
Partaking of its honey food,
With tender and confiding grace
They waved to each a fond embrace.
A star in the far azure sky
Heard a murm’ring streamlet’s sigh,