And thus he sang to her who was not there:
"She comes! her presence, like a moving song
Breathed soft of loveliest lips and lute-like tongue,
Sways all the gurgling forests from their rest:
I fancy where her rustling foot is pressed,
So faltering, love seems timid, but how strong
That darling love that flutters in her breast!
"She comes! and the green vistas are stormed thro'—
As if wild wings, wet-varnished with dripped dew,
Had dashed a sudden sunbeam tempest past,