You love me well, I know, wife,
In spite of frown and toss;
In the moonlight long ago, wife,
You didn’t look so cross;
In your little scarlet cloak, dear,
You tripp’d along the moss,
And all at once I spoke, dear,
Though sadly at a loss.
You hung your pretty head, then,
And answer’d very low;
I scarce heard what you said, then,
But I knew it wasn’t “No.”
My joy I couldn’t speak, love,
But, a hundred times or so,
I kiss’d a velvet cheek, love,
In the moonlight long ago.