III.

It was beside a wide, white weir, Where the foam dances in the sun, The butterflies are fair this year, And o'er the weir there hovered one— A far-off cottage curled its smoke Against a blue and perfect sky; There love triumphant laughed and woke, And we were silent—you and I.

Love stirred in sleep, reached out his hands, And sighed, and smiled, and stood upright, Then fell the careful cobweb bands With which our will had bound his might; His royal presence made us still, Our will was water, matched with his; Like water-spray he broke our will And joined our lips in our first kiss.