xiii.
I seem'd to feel thy breath upon my cheek;
I vainly searched for words I long'd to speak,
But could not utter lest the sound thereof
Should scare away the elves that wait on love.
And when I spoke to thee 'twas of the spot
Where we were seated,—things that matter'd not,—
Uncared for things,—the weather,—the new laws!
And, sudden-loud, the wind assail'd the grot.