The river plashed and gurgled thro' its glooms,

Slow stealing to the sea,

A silver serpent; in the apple blooms

The soft air rustled free.

And o'er the river from afar the sound

Of mellow tinkling bells

From browsing cattle stirred the echo round

In gentle falls and swells.

No sound of human sorrow, nor of mirth,

Streamed on that peace abroad,

And all the night leaned low upon the earth

Like the calm face of God.

And in our hearts there breathed, like life, a breath

Of most delicious pain:

It seemed a whisper ran from birth to death,

And back to birth again,

And bound in airy chains our shining hours,

Past, present, and to come,

In one sweet whole, strong to defy the powers

Of change, till Time be dumb.

Yes, you remember, dear, that night in June,

So long, so long ago,

When we were lovers, wandering with the moon,

Beside the Gaspereau.