Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 1 of 2.djvu/42

 Whilome thou earnest with the morning mist, Even as a maid, whose stately brow The dew-impearled winds of dawn have kiss'd, When she, as thou, Stays on her floating locks the lovely freight Of overflowing blooms, and earliest shoots Of orient green, giving safe pledge of fruits, Which in wintertide shall star The black earth with brilliance rare.

Whilome thou earnest with the morning mist, And with the evening cloud, Showering thy gleaned wealth into my open breast. (Those peerless flowers which in the rudest wind Never grow sere, When rooted in the garden of the mind. Because they are the earliest of the year). Nor was the night thy shroud. In sweet dreams softer than unbroken rest Thou leddest by the hand thine infant Hope.