Ah little mill, you're rumbling still, Ah sunset flecked with gold! Ah deepening tinge, ah purple fringe Of lilac as of old! Ah hawthorn hedge, ah light-won pledge Of kisses warm and plenty,...
To-night I saw three maidens on the beach, Dark-robed descending to the sea, So slow, so silent of all speech, And visible to me Only by that strange drift-light, dim, forlorn,...
I bended unto me a bough of May, That I might see and smell: It bore it in a sort of way, It bore it very well. But, when I let it backward sway, Then it were hard to tell...