The wind, that gives the rose a kiss,
With murmured music of the south,
Hath kissed a sweeter thing than this;—
The wind, that gives the rose a kiss,—
Hath kissed the red rose of her mouth.
The brook, that mirrors skies and trees,
And echoes in a grottoed place,
Hath held a fairer thing than these;—
The brook, that mirrors skies and trees,
Hath held the image of her face.
O happy wind! O happy brook!
What message from her do you bear?—
“We bear from her her kiss and look—”
O happy wind! O happy brook!—
“That blessed us unaware.”