Long time I stood, and longer had I stay’d,
When, lo! I saw, saw by the sweet moonlight
Which came in silence o’er that silent shade,
Where, near the fountain, something like despair
Made of that weeping willow, garlands for her hair.
And eke with painful fingers she inwove
Many an uncouth stem of savage thorn—
“The willow garland, that was for her love,
And these her bleeding temples would adorn.”
With sighs her heart nigh burst, salt tears fast fell