Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 2 of 2.djvu/90

 A third would glimmer on her neck To make the necklace shine; Another slid, a sunny fleck, From head to ancle fine,

Then close and dark my arms I spread, And shadow'd all her rest— Dropt dews upon her golden head, An acorn in her breast.

But in a pet she started up, And pluck'd it out, and drew My little oakling from the cup, And flung him in the dew.

And yet it was a graceful gift— I felt a pang within As when I see the woodman lift His axe to slay my kin.