SHE lay beneath an apple tree,
A marble maiden, free from care;
And round her was a canopy
Of moonlit air.

He made his bed among the leaf,
And on a petal softly blown,
He touched a vein upon her brow
With grief unknown.

Then lightly, where the lashes fall,
Entered the chamber of her soul;
And, finding there a silver bell,
He made it toll.