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 of which proposals he listens with various degrees of impatience. At last she requests him to fix the day himself, and he eagerly decides on the morrow.

In the twelfth and last song, he apostrophizes the "light so low in the vale," and tenderly calls on the familiar places of the neighbourhood.

And he ends by interrogating his own heart—

In exquisite perfection of workmanship, this poem—conducted like "Maud" (though with a happier termination), almost wholly by a lover's snatches of soliloquy