 | The lion's cub |  |
AT DRACHENFELS.
All simple folk, like dogs and children dear,Are experts in the language of the eyes;
The spirit that behind the letter lies
To their sharp sense is clear,
And the words that are unspoken they can hear.
Then why not I and you?
We love, or think we do,
While the river rushes by,
And the summer sky is blue.
Then fill our cups with wine,
I, yours, and you, mine.
For long before all these,
Whatever be their shapes,
Before the wine the grapes,
And before the grapes the vine,
53
Was your love and mine!
Such, dear, as I surmise,
Is the verdict of your eyes,
As we stroll this summer noon, by the many-castled Rhine.
| The lion's cub | |