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159

RECOLLECTIONS OF LOVE.

I.

How warm this woodland wild Recess!

Love surely hath been breathing here.
And this sweet bed of heath, my dear!
Swells up, then sinks with faint caress,
As if to have you yet more near.

II.

Eight springs have flown, since last I lay

On sea-ward Quantock's heathy hills,
Where quiet sounds from hidden rills
Float here and there, like things astray,
And high o'er head the sky-lark shrills.

III.

No voice as yet had made the air

Be music with your name: yet why
That asking look? That yearning sigh?
That sense of promise every where?
Beloved! flew your spirit by?