Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/839

 A holier odour About it, of pansies— A rosemary odour, Commingled with pansies— With rue and the beautiful Puritan pansies.

And so it lies happily, Bathing in many A dream of the truth And the beauty of Annie— Drown'd in a bath Of the tresses of Annie.

She tenderly kiss'd me, She fondly caress'd, And then I fell gently To sleep on her breast— Deeply to sleep From the heaven of her breast.

When the light was extinguish'd, She cover'd me warm, And she pray'd to the angels To keep me from harm— To the queen of the angels To shield me from harm.

And I lie so composedly, Now, in my bed (Knowing her love), That you fancy me dead—