THE BRIDAL PAIR.
Reading edition
HE.
THOUGH the roving bee as lightly Sip the sweets of thyme and clover, Though the moon of May as whitely Silver all the greensward over, Yet, beneath the trysting tree, That hath been which shall not be!
SHE.
Drip the vials ne’er so sweetly With the honey-dew of pleasure, Trip the dancers ne’er so featly Through the old remembered measure, Yet, the lighted lanthorn round, What is lost shall not be found! William Young.