I GREW assured, before I asked, That she'd be mine without reserve, And in her unclaimed graces basked At leisure, till the time should serve, -- With just enough of dread to thrill The hope, and make it trebly dear: Thus loath to speak the word, to kill Either the hope or happy fear. Till once, through lanes returning late, Her laughing sisters lagged behind; And ere we reached her father's gate, We paused with one presentient mind; And, in the dim and perfumed mist Their coming stayed, who, blithe and free, And very women, loved to assist A lover's opportunity. Twice rose, twice died, my trembling word; To faint and frail cathedral chimes Spake time in music, and we heard The chafers rustling in the limes. Her dress, that touched me where I stood; The warmth of her confided arm; Her bosom's gentle neighborhood; Her pleasure in her power to charm; Her look, her love, her form, her touch! The least seemed most by blissful turn, -- Blissful but that it pleased too much, And taught the wayward soul to yearn. It was as if a harp with wires Was traversed by the breath I drew; And O, sweet meeting of desires! She, answering, owned that she loved too. |