Page:The Vow of the Peacock.pdf/75

66

While the soft shades of evening fling A richer darkness on each ring. She looks around, 'tis not to watch The purple phantasies of eve; She listens, it is not to catch The music which the waters weave; For, with a low, perpetual sound, The haunted waves are dashing round. A face is present to her eye, A voice is ringing in her ear; Ah! love brings many an object nigh The heart alone can see and hear.

Her broidery aside is flung, Aside the small seed pearls she strung;