And a distant bell swung its solemn chime,
That seem'd to me like the voice of a star;
And I think, through a century of time,
I shall always believe that such things are.
And then--it was then--he spoke, and I heard;
And the moon rose up, and the stars grew dim,
And all of a sudden the nightingale-bird
Triumphantly chanted her jubilant hymn.
What are you singing about, little birds,
Twittering loudly in lime-tree and oak?
Telling each other the wonderful words
On a sweet May evening a lover spoke?
Butterflies, floating away from the trees,
With blossom-like wings of delicate dye,
You are bearing tidings certain to please,
Scatter them freely, but do not ask why.
Two lovers stood 'neath a star-lighted sky,
Half fearfully touching enchanted ground:
One lover was Harry, and one was I,
And the world went merrily round and round.
Souls rushing together from distant parts,
Vows utter'd that cannot be ever undone;
A minute ago two lives and two hearts,
Through time and eternity now but one.
O foolish butterflies! chattering birds!
Instinct in vain with humanity strives;
You can't understand the wonderful words
Or magical kisses that changed two lives!
What is Nature made for? is it for us
The beautiful world is burnish'd and blent?
If we had not eyes, would blossoms shine thus?
If we had not nostrils, would they have scent?
I heard a philosopher say--in isles
Surrounded by ocean, apart, alone,
With no living creature to reckon miles,
Wherein life had never been born or known,
That the clouds with electric flash may meet,
And thunder may rattle its dreadful breath,
Yet never a sound break the rest complete,
Or the silence of this eternal death;
That the fierce storm-wind may bluster and blow,
Tearing the trees from the root-broken ground,
Or the wild sea-surf may leap and may flow
In solemn silence with never a sound.
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