Song: Hush, hush! tread softly

Hush, hush ! tread softly ! hush, hush my dear !
All the house is asleep, but we know very well
That the jealous, the jealous old bald-pate may hear,
Tho' you've padded his night-cap — O sweet Isabel !
Tho' your feet are more light than a Fairy's feet,
Who dances on bubbles where brooklets meet, —
Hush, hush ! soft tiptoe ! hush, hush my dear !
For less than a nothing the jealous can hear.

No leaf doth tremble, no ripple is there
On the river, — all's still, and the night's sleepy eye
Closes up, and forgets all its Lethean care,
Charm'd to death by the drone of the humming Mayfly;
And the Moon, whether prudish or complaisant,
Has fled to her bower, well knowing I want
No light in the dusk, no torch in the gloom,
But my Isabel's eyes, and her lips pulp'd with bloom.

Lift the latch ! ah gently ! ah tenderly — sweet !
We are dead if that latchet gives one little clink !
Well done — now those lips, and a flowery seat —
The old man may sleep, and the planets may wink ;
The shut rose shall dream of our loves, and awake
Full blown, and such warmth for the morning's take,
The stock-dove shall hatch her soft brace and shall coo,
While I kiss to the melody, aching all through!