Page:Beachy Head and Other Poems.pdf/44

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They heard him, as complaining of his fate, And to the murmuring wind, of cold neglect And baffled hope he told.—The peasant girls These plaintive sounds remember, and even now Among them may be heard the stranger's songs.

Were I a Shepherd on the hill And ever as the mists withdrew Could see the willows of the rill Shading the footway to the mill Where once I walk'd with you—