IX

'Love! thou art leading me from wintry cold,

      Lady! thou leadest me to summer clime,

And I must taste the blossoms that unfold

      In its ripe warmth this gracious morning time.'

So said, his erewhile timid lips grew bold,

      And poesied with hers in dewy rhyme:

Great bliss was with them, and great happiness

Grew, like a lusty flower in June's caress.