Page:Carroll - Phantasmagoria and other poems (1869).djvu/183



The light was faint, and soft the air
 * That breathed around the place;

And she was lithe, and tall, and fair,
 * And with a wayward grace
 * Her queenly head she bare.

With glowing cheek, with gleaming eye,
 * She met me on the way:

My spirit owned the witchery
 * Within her smile that lay:

I followed her, I knew not why.

The trees were thick with many a fruit,
 * The grass with many a flower:

My soul was dead, my tongue was mute,
 * In that accursëd hour.