Look there—he moves like a bird among the lilies.
What look of love now catches in his eye,
As he in the peripheries, stirs, where all dance
And make a festive swell—hear now the bells
Clink and the hands clap; watch now the sheer veils—
Blue, scarlet, violet, rippling as a wave.
He comes, a violent look of love upon his brow—
That such a wedding might be his, and his
Alone, and that the bridal earth might part for him,
That he might cross that path which keeps him yet
From his betrothed—but sensing him, she twists away
Like fish in shallow water, eluding him.