Page:Christabel, Kubla Khan, The Pains of Sleep - Coleridge (1816).djvu/17

 What makes her in the wood so late, A furlong from the castle gate? She had dreams all yesternight Of her own betrothed knight; Dreams, that made her moan and leap, As on her bed she lay in sleep; And she in the midnight wood will pray For the weal of her lover that's far away.

She stole along, she nothing spoke, The breezes they were still also; And nought was green upon the oak, But moss and rarest misletoe: She kneels beneath the huge oak tree, And in silence prayeth she.

The lady leaps up suddenly, The lovely lady, Christabel!