A single note upon the breeze
was heard tonight amidst the trees.

Its temper pure, its timbre sweet;
from heart to heart, where lovers meet.

It started light, a gentle hand;
‘twas never clear where it began.

Its volume grew to fill the wood
and just as it was understood

began to fade, and slowly passed;
the silent night restored at last.

For on the score appeared a rest,
a breathing space, for time unpressed.

And though the sound may rise, may fall
the note that matters most of all

is love that spoke without a word.
For on this night, a note was heard.