Page:A lover's tale (Tennyson, 1879).djvu/75

Rh So rich a prize, the man who stood with me Stept gaily forward, throwing down his robes, And claspt her hand in his: again the bells Jangled and clang'd: again the stormy surf Crash'd in the shingle: and the whirling rout Led by those two rush'd into dance, and fled Wind-footed to the steeple in the woods, Till they were swallow'd in the leafy bowers, And I stood sole beside the vacant bier.

There, there, my latest vision—then the event!