⁠And all day long
Our lives should be a song:
⁠No grief, no wrong
⁠Should make my heart rebel—
⁠Were I thy bride!

⁠The silvery flute,
The melancholy lute,
⁠Were night owl's hoot
⁠To my low-whispered coo—
⁠Were I thy bride!
⁠The skylark's trill
Were but discordance shrill
⁠To the soft thrill
⁠Of wooing as I'd woo—
⁠Were I thy bride!

⁠The rose's sigh
Were as a carrion's cry
⁠To lullaby
⁠Such as I'd sing to thee,
⁠Were I thy bride!
⁠A feather's press
Were leaden heaviness
⁠To my caress.
⁠But then, unhappily,
⁠I'm not thy bride!