Page:A lover's tale (Tennyson, 1879).djvu/61

Rh Living slew Love, and Sympathy hew'd out The bosom-sepulchre of Sympathy?

Chiefly I sought the cavern and the hill Where last we roam'd together, for the sound Of the loud stream was pleasant, and the wind Came wooingly with woodbine smells. Sometimes All day I sat within the cavern-mouth, Fixing my eyes on those three cypress-cones That spired above the wood; and with mad hand Tearing the bright leaves of the ivy-screen, I cast them in the noisy brook beneath, And watch'd them till they vanish'd from my sight Beneath the bower of wreathe eglantines: And all the fragments of the living rock (Huge blocks, which some old trembling of the world Had loosen'd from the mountain, till they fell Half-digging their own graves) these in my agony