Page:Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge).djvu/169


 * In the cool morning twilight, early waked

By her full bosom's joyless restlessness, Leaving the soft bed to her sleeping sister, Softly she rose, and lightly stole along, Down the slope coppice to the woodbine bower, Whose rich flowers, swinging in the morning breeze, Over their dim fast-moving shadows hung, Making a quiet image of disquiet In the smooth, scarcely moving river-pool. There, in that bower where first she own'd her love, And let me kiss my own warm tear of joy From off her glowing cheek, she sate and stretch'd The silk upon the frame, and work'd her name Between the and — Her own dear name, with her own auburn hair! That forc'd to wander till sweet spring return, I yet might ne'er forget her smile, her look, Her voice, (that even in her mirthful mood Has made me wish to steal away and weep,) Nor yet th' entrancement of that maiden kiss With which she promis'd, that when spring return'd, She would resign one half of that dear name, And own thenceforth no other name but mine!