Meeting in

A tranquil bar

Of rosy twilight under dusk's first star.

A glimmering sound

Of whispering waters over grassy ground.

A sun-sweet smell

Of fresh-reaped hay from dewy field and dell.

A lazy breeze

Jostling the ripeness from the apple-trees.

A vibrant cry,

Passing, then gone, of bullbats in the sky.

And faintly now

The katydid upon the shadowy bough.

And far-off then

The little owl within the lonely glen.

And soon, full soon,

The silvery arrival of the moon.

And, to your door,

The path of roses I have trod before.

And, sweetheart, you!

Among the roses and the moonlit dew.