Monk and Nun 55 
Every note is full of gladness — 
is the monk within his cloister 
Pouring out his adoration. 
Quickly ask them, ere the north wind 
Comes again to mar the quiet, 
Who it is that wooes the maiden, 
Who may be the sweet lake's lover. 
Ah ! What is it that they answer ? 
Yes, they know but will not tell you. 
Journey back into the valley, 
Shun the red fox and the aspens, 
Shun the tattling pines and north wind ; 
Seek the lake herself at sunset, 
Float upon her placid surface. 
Look within her heart at twilight, 
Ask her if she has a lover ? 
Downward over thorny ledges. 
Downward past the tittering aspens, 
Heeding not the sneaking red fox. 
Heeding not the tattling pine-trees, 
Downward to the sandy margin 
Whence with paddle swiftly plying, 
