She has thrown her bonnet by; Little Ellie sits alone, Fills the silence like a speech: 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 the steed it shall be red-roan, And the lover shall be noble, With an eye that takes the breath, 'And the steed it shall be shod All in silver, housed in azure, And the mane shall swim the wind; Shall flash onward and keep measure, Y 'He will kiss me on the mouth Then, and lead me as a lover, Through the crowds that praise his deeds And, when soul-tied by one troth, Unto him I will discover That swan's nest among the reeds.' Little Ellie, with her smile What more eggs were with the two. Pushing through the elm-tree copse, Ellie went home sad and slow. If she found the lover ever, With his red-roan steed of steeds, Sooth I know not! but I know She could never show him-never, That swan's nest among the reeds. CLXII SONG E. B. Browning I wander'd by the brook-side, I wander'd by the mill,— I could not hear the brook flow, But the beating of my own heart I sat beneath the elm-tree, I watch'd the long, long shade. I did not feel afraid; But the beating of my own heart He came not,-no, he came not; But the beating of my own heart Fast silent tears were flowing, A hand was on my shoulder, I knew its touch was kind: It drew me nearer, nearer; For the beating of our own hearts R. M. Milnes CLXIII TIMOTHY 'Up, Timothy, up with your staff and away! Of coats and of jackets, grey, scarlet, and green, The girls on the hills make a holiday show. Fresh sprigs of green box-wood, not six months before, Fill'd the funeral basin at Timothy's door; A coffin through Timothy's threshold had past; One Child did it bear, and that Child was his last. Now fast up the dell came the noise and the fray, Perhaps to himself at that moment he said; CLXIV THE SLEEPING BEAUTY I-THE MAGIC SLEEP I Year after year unto her feet, She lying on her couch alone, Across the purple coverlet, The maiden's jet-black hair has grown, On either side her tranced form Forth streaming from a braid of pearl: The slumbrous light is rich and warm, And moves not on the rounded curl. 2 The silk star-broider'd coverlid Unto her limbs itself doth mould, Languidly ever; and, amid Her full black ringlets downward roll'd, Glows forth each softly shadow'd arm With bracelets of the diamond bright: Her constant beauty doth inform Stillness with love, and day with light. 3 She sleeps: her breathings are not heard The fragrant tresses are not stirr'd, |