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And safely in a little cove, Shelter'd by willow trees above, An ambuscade from all secured, Her lover's little boat lay moor'd.— One greeting word, with muffled oar, And silent lip, they left that shore.

It was most like a phantom dream To see that boat flit o'er the stream, So still, that but yet less and less It grew, it had seem'd motionless. And then the silent lake, the trees Visible only when the breeze Aside the shadowy branches threw, And let one single star shine through, While the faint glimmer scarcely gave To view the wanderers of the wave.