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14 Twined into a bright retreat, For the birds of heaven to meet, Forming round our leafy seat On the earth a circle fair— A green steeple in the air— And, below, a glorious hall, Made of golden trefoils all. Noble arbour—verdant nook— For the maid of modest look; House by bright clear waters piled— Waters ne’er by smoke defiled, Place of ecstacy and song, Of tall trees and tangled ground; There the ousels rear their young, There a fortress may be found— Verdant turrets that enclose Faithful lovers from their foes! Wilt thou, then, or wilt thou not, Visit me in that bless’d spot? For thyself thou must declare, Come—thou must—and meet me there!