Page:Wessex poems and other verses (IA wessexpoemsother00hard).pdf/54

 Upon that fabric fair “Here is she!" Seems written everywhere Unto me. But to friends and nodding neighbors, Fellow wights in lot and labors, Who descry the times as I, No such lucid legend tells Where she dwells.

Should I lapse to what I was In days by— (Such cannot be, but because Some loves die Let me feign it)—none would notice That where she I know by rote is Spread a strange and withering change, Like a drying of the wells Where she dwells.

To feel I might have kissed— Loved as true— Otherwhere, nor Mine have missed My life through,