HER gaze meets his as he looks down Within the turmoil of the street; And all the clattering of the town Fails, and is silent at their feet. They move to music, with the trill Of birds where skyey orchards blow; And far from them the winter chill, The smoke-stained clouds, and drabbled snow. Well lost, the granite street and walls, The laden wains, the shouts and stirs, In that revealing glance which falls From his dear eyes quick into hers. Unreal these firmly factful things: The traffic, barter, busy schemes; For all earth's strifes and bargainings Are chrysalids of winged dreams. |