Beckon to me to come
With handkerchief or hand
Or finger mere or thumb;
Let forecasts be but rough
Parents more bleak than bland
'Twill be enough
Maid mine
'Twill be enough!

Two fields, a wood, a tree
Nothing now more malign
Lies between you and me;
But were they bysm, or bluff
Or snarling sea, one sign
Would be enough
Maid mine
Would be enough!