Her father left his good arm-chair, XXVII. "And with him Albert came on his. I looked at him with joy : As cowslip unto oxlip is, So seems she to the boy. XXVIII. An hour had past-and, sitting straight XXIX. "But, as for her, she stayed at home, And on the roof she went, And down the way you use to come XXX. "She left the novel half-uncut XXXI. "Then ran she, gamesome as the colt, And livelier than a lark She sent her voice through all the holt Before her, and the park. XXXII. "A light wind chased her on the wing, And in the chase grew wild, As close as might be would he cling XXXIII. "But light as any wind that blows So fleetly did she stir, The flower, she touched on, dipt and rose, And turned to look at her. XXXIV. "And here she came, and round me played, And sang to me the whole Of those three stanzas that you made XXXV. "And in a fit of frolic mirth Alas, I was so broad of girth, XXXVI. "I wished myself the fair young beech That round me, clasping each in each, XXXVII. "Yet seemed the pressure thrice as sweet As woodbine's fragile hold, Or when I feel about my feet XXXVIII. O muffle round thy knees with fern, XXXIX. But tell me, did she read the name When last with throbbing heart I came XL. "O yes, she wandered round and round These knotted knees of mine, And found, and kissed the name she found, And sweetly murmured thine. XLI. "A tear-drop trembled from its source, My sense of touch is something coarse, XLII. “Then flushed her cheek with rosy light, XLIII. "Her kisses were so close and kind, XLIV. "And even into my inmost ring XLV. Thrice-happy he that may caress XLVI. "I, rooted here among the groves, But languidly adjust My vapid vegetable loves With anthers and with dust: XLVII. "For ah! my friend, the days were brief Whereof the poets talk, When that, which breathes within the leaf, Could slip its bark and walk. XLVIII. "But could I, as in times foregone, XLIX. "She had not found me so remiss; L. O flourish high, with leafy towers, Pursue thy loves among the bowers, LI. O flourish, hidden deep in fern, LII. ""Tis little more: the day was warm; At last, tired out with play, She sank her head upon her arm, LIII. "Her eyelids dropped their silken eaves. LIV. "I took the swarming sound of life- LV. "Sometimes I let a sunbeam slip, LVI. "A third would glimmer on her neck To make the necklace shine; Another slid, a sunny fleck, From head to ankle fine. LVII. “Then close and dark my arms I spread, LVIII. “But in a pet she started up, |