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 And then it pass’d from her; yet still she heard, Far-off, its voice; then open’d wide her eyes, Yet knew not where she was; and closed her eyes, Yet knew she was a-watch for one to come. And thus she pictured vague sweet visions forth— How she would push her light skiff from the shore, And row her to the vessel where he stood, And how her hand should touch him, and his face Should turn towards her—here her eyes grew large To look, but only saw, still in a dream, The many-colour’d water; so that thought Left her, and fled. Anon, with eyelids dropp’d, She mused again how the tall ship should swing On the bright water ’neath the gleaming wall That girds the harbour, and with hasty step The Prince come forth to find her, where she sat Among her maidens on the terrace there; And how, before her kneeling, he should pray— But here she laugh’d aloud, to think the Prince To her should kneel! and, starting at the sound,