strewn.

Till hate had frozen speech,

Each hated each,

And still inveterate

They lean and hate

In stone austere,

Yet with her new-wed lord

Walking the sward

She turn'd and went her way.

Yet in the spray

Night-long the fountain drips,

But even slips

While they, who know it would

Lie if it could,

NUPTIAL NIGHT

Hush! and again the chatter of the starling Athwart the lawn! Lean your head close and closer. O my darling!— It is the dawn. Dawn in the dusk of her dream, Dream in the hush of her bosom, unclose! Bathed in the eye-bright beam, Blush to her cheek, be a blossom, a rose! 

Athwart the lawn!

It is the dawn.

Dream in the hush of her bosom, unclose!

Blush to her cheek, be a blossom, a rose!

 Prev. P 45/70 next