Grow field and forest old.

Beyond those rainy reaches

Of woodland, far and lone,

A whippoorwill beseeches;

And now an owl's vague moan

Strikes faint upon the hearing.—

These say the dusk is nearing.

And, see, the heavens clearing

Take on a tender tone.

How feebly chirps the cricket!

How thin the tree-toads cry!

Blurred in the wild-rose thicket

Gleams wet the firefly.—

This way toward home is nearest;

Of weeds and briars clearest....

We'll meet to-morrow, dearest;

Till then, dear heart, good-bye.

3

 They meet again under the greenwood tree. He speaks:

Here at last! And do you know

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