And she? she watched his open palm
Smooth out the letter from the sand,
And rose, with aspect almost calm,
And filled her hand
With cherry-bloom, and moved away
To gather wild forget-me-not,
And let her errant footsteps stray
To one sweet spot,
As if she coveted the fair
White lining of the silver-weed,
And cuckoo-pint that shaded there
Empurpled seed.
She had not feared, as I divine,
Because she had not hoped. Alas!
The sorrow of it! for that sign
Came but to pass;
And yet it robbed her of the right
To give, who looked not to receive,
And made her blush in love's despite
That she should grieve.
A shape in white, she turned to gaze;
Her eyes were shaded with her hand,
And half-way up the winding ways
We saw her stand.
Green hollows of the fringèd cliff,
Red rocks that under waters show,
Blue reaches, and a sailing skiff,
Were spread below.
She stood to gaze, perhaps to sigh,
Perhaps to think; but who can tell
How heavy on her heart must lie
The letter L!
* * * * *
She came anon with quiet grace;
And "What," she murmured, "silent yet!"
He answered, "'Tis a haunted place,
And spell-beset.