Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/85

74

Then came the wanderings long and lonely, As if the world held them, them only; The gather'd flower, which is to bear Some gentle secret whisper'd there; The seat beneath the forest tree; The breathless silence, which to love Is all that eloquence can be; The looks ten thousand words above; The fond deep gaze, till the fix'd eye Casts each on each a mingled dye; The interest round each little word, Though scarcely said, and scarcely heard. Little love asks of language aid, For never yet hath vow been made In that young hour when love is new; He feels at first so deep, so true,