< Page:Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge).djvu
How warm this woodland wild Recess!
Eight springs have flown, since last I lay
No voice as yet had made the air
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
159
RECOLLECTIONS OF LOVE.
I.
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.
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.
Be music with your name: yet why
That asking look? That yearning sigh?
That sense of promise every where?
Beloved! flew your spirit by?
This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is licensed under Creative Commons - Attribution - Sharealike. Additional terms may apply for the media files.