An hour or more she's gone,
And we are left alone,
I and her bird.
At last he twittered sweet,
To hear my loved one's feet,
And I, too, heard.

When she had entered,
He tilted then his head,
If right or wrong;
But when her voice was heard
A frenzy seized the bird
To rave in song.

'Peace, pet, my love is near,
Her voice I cannot hear
In such a din;
Thou couldst not call more loud
Unto a smiling cloud
That May hides in.'

Now, what his thoughts could be -
If she still spake and he
In harmony;
Or had forgetful grown,
Enamoured of his own
Sweet melody -

Is not my say; I know
I out with her must go
To hear her story.
We left that raving thing -
Made worse by laughter - sing
Out his mad glory.