Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 2 of 2.djvu/76

THE TALKING OAK.

i.

Once more the gate behind me falls;

Once more before my face
I see the moulder'd Abbey-walls,
That stand within the chace.

ii.

Beyond the lodge the city lies,

Beneath its drift of smoke;
And ah! with what delighted eyes
I turn to yonder oak.

iii.

For when my passion first began,

Ere that, which in me burn'd,
The love, that makes me thrice a man,
Could hope itself return'd;