(My heart almost stops in a mute amaze

To think that it ever was not in love.)

Up in the morning, as gay as a lark,

With a glad good-bye to the pleasant night;

Without an idea I am in the dark,

Or that just beyond is the real light;

Running down stairs, with a laugh as I ran,

Free as 'the blossom that hangs on the bough'—

I never had given a thought to a man,

And why in the world should I give one now.

[pg 10]

Dancing along through the hawthorn-crown'd lane,

'Neath showers of flowers whose name I bear,

Was it not strange I should find Harry Vane

Coming to meet me just then and just there?

Is it for this our two lives have been led,

Each travelling on its different way,

To meet with the blue sky over our head

Shaded by delicate blossoms of may?

Little reck'd I whom I happened to meet,

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