My Love

I Only knew she came and went Lowell. Like troutlets in a pool; Hood. She was a phantom of delight, Wordsworth. And I was like a fool. Eastman. One kiss, dear maid, I said, and sighed, Coleridge. Out of those lips unshorn: Longfellow. She shook her ringlets round her head, Stoddard. And laughed in merry scorn. Tennyson. Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, Tennyson. You heard them, O my heart; Alice Cary. ’T is twelve at night by the castle clock, Coleridge. Belovèd, we must part. Alice Cary. “Come back, come back!” she cried in grief, Campbell. “My eyes are dim with tears, Bayard Taylor. How shall I live through all the days? Osgood. All through a hundred years?” T. S. Perry. ’T was in the prime of summer time Hood. She blessed me with her hand; Hoyt. We strayed together, deeply blest, Edwards. Into the dreaming land. Cornwall. The laughing bridal roses blow, Patmore. To dress her dark-brown hair; Bayard Taylor. My heart is breaking with my woe, Tennyson. Most beautiful! most rare! Read. I clasped it on her sweet, cold hand, Browning. The precious golden link! Smith. I calmed her fears, and she was calm, Coleridge. “Drink, pretty creature, drink.” Wordsworth. And so I won my Genevieve, Coleridge. And walked in Paradise; Hervey. The fairest thing that ever grew Wordsworth. Atween me and the skies. Osgood.