—With her eyes' inspiration clearly chaste;
A rhythmic lavishment of bright gray blue,
Long arrows of her eyes perfection cast.
"Ah, God! she comes! and, Love, I feel thy breath,
Like the soft South who idly wandereth
Thro' musical leaves of laughing laziness,
Page on before her, how sweet—none can guess!
To say my soul 'Here's harmony dear as death
To sigh wild vows, or utterless, to bless.'
"She comes! ah, God! and all my brain is brave