And joyed when he a wood had won,
Sweet cloistered green, and roofed above,
Where soft he heard the wooing dove,
And sound of wandering water near;
He drank its crystal cup and clear,
And kept his path beside the stream
Till he beheld white pillars gleam.
He passed from green to blossomed boughs
That compassed fair a secret house;
Still music drew him to the door,