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Little Ellie sits alone,-
And the smile, she softly useth,
Fills the silence like a speech;
While she thinks what shall be
done,―

And

V.

"And the steed shall be red

roan,

And the lover shall be noble,
With an eye that takes the
breath,-

And the lute he plays upon,
Shall strike ladies into trouble,
As his sword strikes men to
death.

VI.

All in silver, housed in azure,
"And the steed, it shall be shod

And the mane shall swim the
wind;

And the hoofs, along the sod, Shall flash onward and keep

measure,

Till the shepherds look behind.

VII.

"But my lover will not prize All the glory that he rides in,

When he gazes in my face.
He will say, 'O Love, thine eyes

the sweetest pleasure Build the shrine my soul abides in;

chooseth,

For her future within reach.

IV.

Little Ellie in her smile Chooseth... "I will have a lover, Riding on a steed of steeds!

He shall love me without guile; And to him I will discover

That swan's nest among the reeds.

And I kneel here for thy grace.'

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Lean down closer-closer still! I have words thine ear to fill,And would kiss thee at my will.

X.

Dear, I heard thee in the spring, Thee and Robert-through the trees,

When we all went gathering Boughs of May-bloom for the

bees.

Do not start so! think instead How the sunshine over head

XIV.

I sate down beneath the beech
Which leans over to the lane,
And the far sound of your speech
Did not promise any pain:
And I blessed you full and free,
With a smile stooped tenderly
O'er the May-flowers on my
knee.

XV.

But the sound grew into word
As the speakers drew more

near

Seemed to trickle through the Sweet, forgive me that I heard

shade.

XI.

What a day it was, that day! Hills and vales did openly Seem to heave and throb away, At the sight of the great sky: And the Silence, as it stood In the Glory's golden flood, Audibly did bud-and bud.

XII.

Through the winding hedgerows green,

How we wandered, I and you,With the bowery tops shut in, And the gates that showed the view

How we talked there! thrushes soft

Sang our pauses out-or oft Bleatings took them from the croft.

XIII.

Till the pleasure, grown too strong,
Left me muter evermore ;
And, the winding road being long,

I walked out of sight, before,
And so, wrapt in musings fond,
Issued (past the wayside pond)
On the meadow-lands beyond.

What you wished me not to hear. Do not weep so-do not shakeOh, I heard thee, Bertha,make Good true answers for my sake.

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