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XL. “O) yes, she wander'd round and round
These knotted knees of mine, And found, and kiss'd the name she found,
And sweetly murmur'd thine.
“A teardrop trembled from its source,
And down my surface crept.
But I believe she wept.
XLII. “ Then flush'd her cheek with rosy light,
She glanced across the plain ; But not a creature was in sight :
She kiss'd me once again.
“ Her kisses were so close and kind,
That, trust me on my word,
But yet my sap was stirrid :
A pleasure I discern'd,
That show the year is turn'd.
“ Thrice-happy he that may caress
The ringlet's waving balm-
The maiden's tender palm,
“I, rooted here among the groves,
But languidly adjust My vapid vegetable loves
With anthers and with dust :
“ For ah ! the Dryad-days were brief
Whereof the poets talk, When that, which breathes within the leaf,
Could slip its bark and walk.
“But could I, as in times foregone,
From spray, and branch, and stem, Have suck'd and gather'd into one
The life that spreads in them,
" She had not found me so remiss ;
But lightly issuing thro',
With usury thereto.”
O flourish high, with leafy towers,
And overlook the lea, Pursue thy loves among the bowers,
But leave thou mine to me.
Old oak, I love thee well ;
And what remains to tell.
“ 'Tis little more: the day was warm ;
At last, tired out with play, She sank her head upon her arm,
And at my feet she lay.
“Her eyelids dropp'd their silken eaves.
I breathed upon her eyes
A welcome mix'd with sighs.
“ I took the swarming sound of life
The music from the town-
And lull’d them in my own.
“Sometimes I let a sunbeam slip
To light her shaded eye ;
Like a golden butterfly ;
“A third would glimmer on her neck
To make the necklace shine ;
From head to ancle fine.
“Then close and dark my arms I spread,
And shadow'd all her rest
An acorn in her breast.
“But in a pet she started up,
And pluck'd it out, and drew My little oakling from the cup,
And flung him in the dew.
“And yet it was a graceful gift
I felt a pang within
His axe to slay my kin,