VI.

A pleasant soul as ever trilled a song Was hers who warbled "Claire." All the day long Her voice was ringing like a bridal bell; Gladness and joy leaped up at every swell; And love was deeper, warmer, for the tone That clasped the heart like an enchanted zone. A youth was there more comely than the rest, One who could turn a furrow with the best, Compete for manly strength and portly air, Or wield a scythe with any reaper there. The spirit of her voice had moved above The waters of his soul, and waked his song to Love: