I Sat with Doris, the shepherd-maiden;
  Her crook was laden with wreathèd flowers:
I sat and wooed her, through sunlight wheeling
  And shadows stealing, for hours and hours.

And she, my Doris, whose lap encloses
  Wild summer-roses of sweet perfume,
The while I sued her, kept hushed and hearkened,
  Till shades had darkened from gloss...