He gave her a kiss, she gave him twain
All beneath an apple tree:
The little birds trilled, the little birds filled
The air with their melody,
On a Whit-sunday morn in the month of May.
A goodly sight it was, I ween,
This loving couple to see,
For he was a tall and a stately man,
And a queenly shape had she.
With arms each laced round other's waist,
Through the orchard paths they tread
With gliding pace, face mixed with face,
Yet never a word they said:
Oh! soared the song the birds among,
And seemed with a rapture sped,
On a Whit-sunday morn in the month of May.
The dew-wet grass all through they pass,
The orchard they compass round;
Save words like sighs and swimming eyes
No utterance they found.
Upon his chest she leaned her breast,
And nestled her small, small head,
And cast a look so sad, that shook
Him all with the meaning said:
Oh hushed was the song the trees among,
As over there sailed a gled,
On a Whit-sunday morn in the month of May.
Then forth with a faltering voice there came,
"Ah would Lord Thomas for thee
That I were come of a lineage high,
And not of a low degree."
Lord Thomas her lips with his fingers touched,
And stilled her all with his ee':
"Dear Ella! Dear Ella!" he said,
"Beyond all my ancestry
Is this dower of thine--that precious thing,
Dear Ella, thy purity.
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