Margaret:nIsn't a lovely night?nAnd so alive with fireflies providing us their holy lightnAnd here we made a bed of boughs nAnd thistle down that we had found to lay upon the dewy groundnnAnd isn't a lovely way nWe got in from our play, nIsn't it babe? A sweet little babynnWilliam:nWasn't it a lovely breezenThat swept the leaves of arbor eaves and bent to brush our blushing knees?nnMargaret and William:nAnd here we died our little deaths nAnd we were left to catch our breaths so switftly lifting from our chests?nnAnd isn't it a lovely way we got in from our playnIsn't it babe?nA sweet little baby