Happened him at castle Toune,

Over there in France?

And a cherry dropping fair

On your cheek I, envying it,

Said—remembering Rousseau's wit—

"Would my lips were there!"

How you laughed and blushed, I know.—

Here's the stream. The west has narrowed

To a streak of gold, deep arrowed.—

There's a skiff. Let's row.

4

 Entering the skiff, she speaks:

Waters, flowing dark and bright

In the sunlight or the moon,

Seize my soul with such delight

[Pg 40]

As a visible music might;

As some slow, majestic tune

Made material to the sight.

Blossoms colored like the skies,

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