. Maud, Locksley hall, and other poems . ere about the beach I wanderd, nourishing a youth sublimeWith the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time ; When the centuries behind me like a fruitful land reposed ;When I clung to all the present for the promise that it closed : When I dipt into the future far as human eye could see;Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be. —— In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon therobins breast; In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself an-other crest; In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the bur- nishd dove :In the Spr
. Maud, Locksley hall, and other poems . ere about the beach I wanderd, nourishing a youth sublimeWith the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time ; When the centuries behind me like a fruitful land reposed ;When I clung to all the present for the promise that it closed : When I dipt into the future far as human eye could see;Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be. —— In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon therobins breast; In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself an-other crest; In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the bur- nishd dove :In the Spring a young mans fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love. Then her cheek was pale and thinner than shouldbe for one so young, And her eyes on all my motions with a mute ob-servance hung. Locksley Hall. 117 And I said, Mycousin, Amy,speak, and speakthe truth to me, Trust me, cousin,all the current ofmy being sets tothee. On her pallidcheek and fore-head came acolour and alight, As I have seen therosy red flushingin the MY COUSIN AMY, SPEAK. And she turnd — her bosom shaken with a sudden storm of sighs —All the spirit deeply dawning in the dark of hazel eyes — Saying, I have hid my feelings, fearingthey should do me wrong;Saying, Dost thou love me, cousin? weeping, I have loved thee long. ii8 Locks lev Hall. Love took up the glass of Time, and turnd it in his glowing hands;Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords wit!i might ;Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, passd in music out of sight. Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses her whisper Ihrongd my pulses with the fulness of the Spring. Many an evening by the waters did we watch the stately ships,And our spirits rushd together at the touching of the lips. O my cousin, shallow-hearted ! O my Amy, mineno more ! O the dreary, dreary moorland! O the barren, bar-ren shore! Falser than all fanc)^ fathoms
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