Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 2 of 2.djvu/167

 He comes, scarce knowing what he seeks: He breaks the hedge: he enters there: The colour flies into his cheeks: He trusts to light on something fair; For all his life the charm did talk About his path, and hover near With words of promise in his walk, And whisper'd voices in his ear.

More close and close his footsteps wind; The magic music in his heart Beats quick and quicker, till he find The quiet chamber far apart. His spirit flutters like a lark, He stoops—to kiss her—on his knee. "Love, if thy tresses be so dark, How dark those hidden eyes must be!"