We made our vows one night in June,

And all our life was honeymoon;

We did not go to kirk to know,

Hum on its pelfish way below;

How pigmy its triumphal cars:

But near the stars!

We were too fond to chide or sigh—

Never so poor that I could not buy

By hook, or crook, or song, or story,

Along the starving road to glory,

As to a tune, danced fast and fleeting,

But only heard my heart a-beating;

[Pg 94]

Flung down the light for you to wear it,

To haunt my garret.

Were sweeter to me than banquet feast;

Your face was a blessing fit for a priest,

If the wine was a trifle too sharp or rank,

We kissed each time before we drank.

The waxen floor your feet reflected;

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