Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 1 of 2.djvu/126

iii.

Last night, when some one spoke his name,

From my swift blood that went and came
A thousand little shafts of flame
Were shiver'd in my narrow frame.
O Love, O fire! once he drew
With one long kiss my whole soul thro'
My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.

iv.

Before he mounts the hill, I know

He cometh quickly: from below
Sweet gales, as from deep gardens, blow
Before him, striking on my brow.
In my dry brain my spirit soon,
Down-deepening from swoon to swoon,
Faints like a dazzled morning moon.

v.

The wind sounds like a silver wire,

And from beyond the noon a fire
Is pour'd upon the hills, and nigher
The skies stoop down in their desire;