184 MYSTERIES : Where the brook trickles clear to the eye Below dew-spangled frondlets of willow We will wander to find bye-and-bye The sward of our delicate pillow, , Eveline Where the mosses deliciously lie For the sward of our delicate pillow. For a bride fairer far than the flower Is the couch spread by fingers of even, The blossom of apples for bower, Its roof-tree the sapphires of heaven, Eveline ! For the bride of the mystical hour, Its roof-tree the sapphires of heaven ! With songsters the heavy sweet air Is trembling and sighing and shimmering, With meteors magically fair The sky is ecstatically glimmering, Eveline ! With splendour and subtlety rare The sky is ecstatically glimmering. Sweet bride to fond arms witha sigh | Strong arms to soft bosom are twining, The winds breathe more musically by, The moon has a rosier lining, Eveline! The stars grow more dim in the sky, The moon has a rosier lining.