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27.O past! O joy!
In the air—in the woods—over fields,
Loved! Loved! Loved! Loved! Loved!
Loved—but no more with me,
We two together no more.

28.The aria sinking,
All else continuing—the stars shining,
The winds blowing—the notes of the wondrous bird
echoing,
With angry moans the fierce old mother yet, as ever,
incessantly moaning,
On the sands of Paumanok's shore gray and rustling,
The yellow half-moon, enlarged, sagging down, droop-
ing, the face of the sea almost touching,
The boy extatic—with his bare feet the waves, with
his hair the atmosphere dallying,
The love in the heart pent, now loose, now at last
tumultuously bursting,
The aria's meaning, the ears, the Soul, swiftly depos-
iting,
The strange tears down the cheeks coursing,
The colloquy there—the trio—each uttering,
The undertone—the savage old mother, incessantly
crying,
To the boy's Soul's questions sullenly timing—some
drowned secret hissing,
To the outsetting bard of love.

29.Bird! (then said the boy's Soul,)
Is it indeed toward your mate you sing? or is it
mostly to me?
For I that was a child, my tongue's use sleeping,
Now that I have heard you,