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That day they rambled in the bracken hurst
When June was king and all the woods his throne,
Our children found, what Straying once alone
Long years before, we two discovered first,
The very birth-place of our love.   They burst
Through tangled undergrowth, whose silent zone
Had held the secret hidden and unknown,
With eyes aflame, inquisitive, athirSt,
And knew not what they found ! For nothing there
Of lawn, or runnel, fern, or forest oak.
Spoke to their spirit, as to ours it spoke.
They burst Love's casket open—It was bare !
The treasure taken thence had long been worn
Within our very hearts, ere they were born.

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