Page:Studies in Song - Swinburne (1880).djvu/89



the might of the summer Is most on the sea; When the days overcome her With joy but to be, With rapture of royal enchantment, and sorcery that sets her not free,

But for hours upon hours As a thrall she remains Spell-bound as with flowers And content in their chains, And her loud steeds fret not, and lift not a lock of their deep white manes;