Page:Ambarvalia - Clough (1849).djvu/135



bewitched me With such a sweet and genial charm, I knew not when I wounded was, And when I found it hugged the harm.

Down hill; ah yes—down hill, down hill I glide, But such a hill! One tapestried fall of meadow pride, Of lady smock and daffodil.

How soon, how soon adown a rocky stair, And slips no longer smooth as they are sweet, Shall I, with backward-streaming hair, Outfly my bleeding feet?