Page:Rosalind and Helen (Shelley).djvu/35

Rh When she was a thing that did not stir And the crawling worms were cradling her To a sleep more deep and so more sweet Than a baby's rocked on its nurse's knee, I lived: a living pulse then beat Beneath my heart that awakened me. What was this pulse so warm and free? Alas! I knew it could not be My own dull blood: 'twas like a thought Of liquid love, that spread and wrought Under my bosom and in my brain, And crept with the blood through every vein; And hour by hour, day after day, The wonder could not charm away, But laid in sleep, my wakeful pain, Until I knew it was a child, And then I wept. For long, long years These frozen eyes had shed no tears: But now—'twas the season fair and mild When April has wept itself to May: I sate through the sweet sunny day