Yet all my heart would flutter like a bird’s
At his approach; and all my will fly off,
And, as if poised in air and not in me,
Leave half my words and ways without control,
Until I seem’d as if I prized him not.
X.
But this he little mark’d. Doretta’s form
Had cast a shade, perhaps, that dimm’d his view.
Then, too, within the year, still subtler charms
Had cast their spells about him: work had come.