Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 1 of 2.djvu/118

 The deep brook groan'd beneath the mill; And "by that lamp," I thought, "she sits!" The white chalk-quarry from the hill Gleam'd to the flying moon by fits. "O that I were beside her now! O will she answer if I call? O would she give me vow for vow, Sweet Alice, if I told her all?"

Sometimes I saw you sit and spin; And, in the pauses of the wind, Sometimes I heard you sing within; Sometimes your shadow cross'd the blind; At last you rose and moved the light, And the long shadow of the chair Flitted across ito the night, And all the casement darken'd there.

But when at last I dared to speak, The lanes, you know, were white with may: Your ripe lips moved not, but your cheek Flush'd like the coming of the day;