Out in the morning, at six-thirty sharp,
I sat on our mountain and played my harp.
Gave it words, made a song,
Let it soar upon air;
Around and around it echoed so fair.
Yea, so soft it bounced back
I thought it was you close on my track
With a kiss that was true!

When a drop from a cloud
Winged light on my hand
I dreamed you at last
Had all negatives banned!
When one fell on my cheek
I thought I had wept
That you through the night
All so lonely had slept.

From a growl overhead
Came the “No’s” that you’d said,—
They couldn’t be “No’s,”
Love couldn’t be dead!
When came lightning and thunder
I leaped from our throne!
“My Queen, I am coming!”
There echoes alone!