Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 2 of 2.djvu/89

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THE TALKING OAK.
77

lii.

"'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.

liii.

"Her eyelids dropp'd their silken eaves.

I breathed upon her eyes
Thro' all the summer of my leaves
A welcome mix'd with sighs.

liv.

"I took the swarming sound of life—

The music from the town—
The whispers of the drum and fife,
And lull'd them in my own.

lv.

"Sometimes I let a sunbeam slip

To light her shaded eye;
A second flutter'd round her lip
Like a golden butterfly;