Quoth willow how the moon loved thee,
That gentle tide may whisk thine cry
And sorrow to the evening sea,
For cleansing sleep to all that lie.
Quoth hummingbird how passion'd sun
May love the earth and folk as well,
Hence morning rays shall never shun
Not angel to most sinful swell.
Quoth I, to you, how love'd be:
No less than sun and moon at high.
And may one heart come back to me-
A kiss to each be'slumbered eye.