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Far off from human neighbourhood,
Thou wert born, on a summer morn,
With breezes from our oaken glades,
Of lavish lights, and floating shades: And flattering thy childish thought
The oriental fairy brought,
At the moment of thy birth, From old well-heads of haunted rills, And the hearts of purple hills,
And shadow'd coves on a sunny shore,
The choicest wealth of all the earth,
Or the yellow-banded bees,
Fed thee, a child, lying alone,
With whitest honey in fairy gardens cull'd-
In silk-soft folds, upon yielding down,
To thee, with fruitage golden-rinded
On golden salvers, or it may be,
With many a deep-hued bell-like flower
Sleepeth over all the heaven,
All along the shadowing shore,
4 How may full-sail'd verse express,
How may measured words adore
The full-flowing harmony
Of thy swan-like stateliness,
Is nothing sudden, nothing single;
From one censer, in one shrine,
Thought and motion mingle,
To an unheard melody,
Of richest pauses, evermore
I see thy beauty gradually unfold,
Slowly, as from a cloud of gold,
The languors of thy love-deep eyes
So tranced, so rapt in ecstacies,
As tho' a star, in inmost heaven set,
And draw itself to what it was before ;
So full, so deep, so slow,
Thought seems to come and go
(Rooit the world with doubt and fear,
In a silent meditation,
into a still delight,
And luxury of contemplation : As waves that up a quiet cove
Rolling slide, and lying still
Shadow forth the banks at will "Or sometimes they swell and move,
Pressing up against the land,
And the self-same influence
Controlleth all the soul and sense
Leaning his cheek upon his hand,
And so would languish evermore,
Or, in a shadowy saloon,
I watch thy grace; and in its place
While I muse upon thy face ;
Thro' my veins to all my frame,
Dissolvingly and slowly: soon
and then, as in a swoon, xinoong With dinning sound my ears are rife,
My tremulous tongue faltereth,
I drink the cup of a costly death,
I die with my delight, before
I hear what I would hear from thee;
Yet tell my name again to me,
So dying ever, Eleänore. (1853)
In yonder chair ? see him sit,
THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER
His double chin, his portly size,
The busy wrinkles round his eyes?
His dusty forehead drily curl'd,
At his own jest-gray eyes lit up
So full of summer warmth, so glad,
mý, glass: give me one kiss :
Shall be unriddled by and by.
But more is taken quite away.
That we may die the self-same day.
4 Have I not found a happy earth?
I least should breathe a thought of pain. Would God renew me from my birth
I'd almost live my life again.
And once again to woo thee mine-
wineTo be the long and listless boy
Late-left an orphan of the squire, Where this old mansion mounted high
Looks down upon the village spire: For even here, where I and you
Have lived and loved alone so long, Each morn my sleep was broken thro'
By some wild skylark's matin song. And oft I heard the fender dove
alone, In firry woodlands making moan; But ere I saw your eyes, my love,
I had no motion of my own.
Before I dream'd that pleasant dreamStill hither thither idly sway'd
The milldam rushing down with noise,
In crystal eddies glance and poise,
Below the range of stepping-stones,
In masses thick with milky cones.
When after roving in the woods ('Twas April then), I came and sat
Below the chestnuts, when their buds Were glistening to the breezy blue;
And on the slope, an absent fool,
But angled in the higher pool.
An echo from a measured strain,
Still in those long mosses in the stream.