Soft pillowed on his bosom, she would start
Up from his half embrace, and then, to hide
Her sweet confusion, turn aside to part
With white and jeweled fingers, tremblingly,
The rich, dark masses of his waving hair.
Then joyous hopes came crowding brightly through
Their dreaming souls, as did the evening stars
Through the calm heaven above them, and the world
Of happiness that lay upon their hearts
Was silent all, for language had no words